“The news was not received well, but I have assured them you are in a safe place, and we are holding steady. They insist upon regular updates. Are you able to receive their communications?” I wasn’t sure why Elzerian was on the comm, and it worried me. While he was the king-appointed elven head of this mission, he tended to leave all the details - and the actual work - to Milo.
“I have only heard from The Voice of Lyra, sir,” I told him. “I do not want to make changes to the equipment in case I lose even that.”
Elzerian made a small noise of agreement. “We should have sent Mackenzie with you. ‘It shouldn’t take more than two hours’ was quite the understatement. Do you think those men you hired will be able to get it to work?”
“They are dedicated to the task, and seem to be more familiar with this type of machinery. I believe they have a better chance than any of us.”
“How is your health? How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Shortness of breath?”
“Not really, sir. I feel tired, but Bryce believes it is a normal response to the change of atmosphere.”
“I was asked to inquire if you had taken some secret item the prince gave you. I have no further details.”
I glanced down at the bead and wire wrapped strips of leather around my wrist. There was another set around my ankle. Charms of protection, health, memory, and more, courtesy of Elorhyn, who had vehemently protested my departure. He’d firmly instructed me to keep them a secret. I had slipped them on before departing the ship, uncertain of what I would encounter. “I have them with me, sir.”
“Good. I want you to write down your experiences in a daily journal. The Prince will want to know everything about that unusual world. Giving him something to read will be much less painful than trying to answer questions at his pace. It will be good practice,” Elzerian went on. “Your handwriting is appalling.”
“Yes, sir,” I sighed.
“And minimize your contact with Wilrhyn. We don’t want you to corrupt her, nor anger her still further.”
“She insists on meeting in person later today. I think she would track me down if I didn’t show.”
“Well, if you must, keep it brief. I don’t want you fouling things up any more than -”
A heavy pounding on the exterior of the shuttle drowned out the tinny voice on the speaker. “HEY! You better be awake and dressed, because I’m coming in!” A woman shouted.
Saved by the small, angry technician. I quickly finished the call as Perl Jam climbed into the shuttle, one hand in front of her face, the other holding a large case. She tended to arrive hours before everyone else, and I had overslept yesterday morning. I didn’t think my body was offensive, but she felt otherwise. “Good, you’ve got your twink ass covered today,” she grumbled, dropping her hand. “Out of the command chair, I’ve got diagnostics to run.”
I moved, and left her to her work as I searched my meager supplies for a notebook, dreading the task. Eventually I found one in the gift box Aggi had brought over, mostly empty but with a bunch of notecards tucked inside, advertising places to visit.
I was being overwhelmed by many things, but notecards seemed to be the worst.
Aggi alone had sent me over three dozen, with landmarks, images, and long explanations of what they were and how to use them.
Mike, the man I’d hired to repair the shuttle, was sending me daily updates of what he was doing, or planning to do, in regards to his task. Milo was obviously well pleased with him, even though neither of us understood anything he said. Still, he seemed excited whenever I saw him. Like me, he had a background in the military and as a guardian - or bodyguard, as he called it.
He brought in a large number of people, like Perl Jam, to look at the shuttle. Most only came once, but a handful of them eagerly returned, and he’d formed a team of sorts. They were friendly enough, and treated me all the more kindly when they learned I had just arrived.
And they eagerly sent notecards. All the information about the world of Linden Elorhyn could ever want, neatly written down. Perhaps the task wasn’t so strenuous after all - I could just hand them over. Maybe he could make logical sense of their order of importance, because I couldn’t.
Second in line to Aggi’s waterfall of messages were Bryce’s, but his landmarks and links came with no description, other than a terse name. I’d been avoiding them until I could figure out how to tell where they’d take me. He was a linguist, and had made great progress in learning how to read the Warrit language - more so than we had. He was surprisingly quiet for someone who could speak over nine languages, but was willing to explain cultural nuances to me that the other humans glossed over.
ImaMess confused me the most. He seemed to be a shapeshifter, and looked different every time he came, sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes an animal, sometimes a combination of the two. Once he showed up in the form of a tree. Mike made him change to something that could fit inside the shuttle, and that had been alarming to watch. Ima sent me links that mostly seemed to be advertisements for goods and services. He also sent information regarding ‘roleplaying’ and what sounded like fighting arenas. He was an expert in Void Devices, or computers, as they called them.
Izzy was an expert in vehicles and their workings. She initially only questioned me about the shuttle and its capabilities, and seemed disappointed at my lack of knowledge. Then she discovered my weapons case, and began sending me all kinds of links and landmarks involving both sword fighting and weaponless combat. And yet, everyone kept assuring me that this world was peaceful?
Leo was a mechanic, welder, blacksmith, and general expert on all things metal, things that elves couldn’t touch. (One of Elorhyn’s charms was supposed to protect me from their ill effects, but it could only do so much.) He preferred giving advice in person, and then would get annoyed when I’d stop him so I could write it down for later. He was the one I most wished would send notecards. He stank of motor oil, smoke, and heavy cologne, and I found his many piercings and tattoos unsettling.
Perl Jam was another computer expert, apparently famed for both her ability to make computers talk to each other, and for her musical taste. She only gave me one notecard - her performance schedule. She was the least talkative - at least to other people. She was constantly cursing at her electronic devices and making nonsense noises in time to the music in her headset.
I had very little to offer in return. I didn't want to fight for entertainment, and that seemed to be my only skill. I certainly knew nothing about ‘spacecraft,’ and the questions I sent up to the Voice of Lyra were answered with hesitancy, if at all. The ship was not ours, and they were either impressed or appalled by our foolhardy venture.
Personally, I was growing more appalled by the day.
Photo Credits:
Hair: Magika - Midnight
Top: Stop - Poncho with shirt
Pants: Gild - Monster
Blanket: Vanilla Bae - throw blanket
Pose: Custom made using the Black Dragon Viewer
Space Shuttle - custom made by me
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