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Chapter 3

Settled once again with the other boys, the room quickly darkened as the dim light from the window faded. Soon, Tamarken could hear the low breathing of the boys. All that is except for the wounded boy who groaned lowly, emitting whimpers from time to time. The boys tossing kept Tamarken from sleep until finally he gathered the boy close to him, and wrapped his arms around the boy. Eventually Walkr drifted off into a fitful sleep, and Tamarken was able to relax and finally to nod off.

From time to time throughout the long night, a cry from outside the window would rouse him. At some point, he heard Soren enter the room and one of the others left to take his post. Still, Tamarken drifted back to sleep.

It was not until a grey light pushed through the window that finally Tamarken woke and eased himself out from the sleeping Walkr. He placed his hand slightly on the boy’s chest, and bent his ear to listen for breath. Finally, he straightened and moved to stand. Rasha watched him with a question in his eyes.

“He’s still with us, but he’s not well. I don’t know what I can do. Where do you relieve yourselves here?”

“Down that hall, last room. Out the window.” Finding the window in question, Tamarken dropped his breach and leaned against the side while thinking. As he shook the last drops free, he came to a decision. He pulled his breach back around his waist.

When he returned all the boys were up. He noticed no one was absent, even the boy who had stood last watch had entered the room.

“Nothing to watch for at this point in the day. Most of the beasties head deeper into the city at dawn.”

“Do you have belongings, things you want to keep with you?”

“Nothing. Just our skin.” Rasha grimaced what looked like a sideways grin. “Loo…”

“You boy…”

Both Rasha and Tamarken spoke together, then stopped. Rasha nodded at him.

“You boys can’t stay here. You’re starving, Walkr is in bad shape. You’ll come with me.”

“And if we don’t want to… no. Don’t answer that. Because what I was going to say was ‘Look, we’ve got nothing here. Will you take us with you?’”

“Yes. As soon as it is brighter out, and we’ve had time to eat. I have just enough for one more small meal between us. Do you have weapons?”

“One knife. I’ll carry that. You lead; Soren, Sahrn, Thresh and Squint can carry Walkr, I’ll follow. If we move quickly through the city, we should be able to get to the edge before the beasties come back this way. And they generally don’t leave the city. I don’t know why.”

So they ate, quickly and quietly. As soon as the last bite had been swallowed, the four boys each took one of Walkr’s limbs and lifted, causing the boy to shriek in pain.

“This won’t work. Which of you is good with a knife?”

Soren stepped forward, and Tamarken handed him his blade.

“Be careful with it. You lose it and you’re in trouble.” Soren nodded, as Tamarken stooped down and picked Walkr into his arms.

“I’ll carry him, and follow you, Soren… until we get to the edge of this place. Do you know where the river comes out?”

Soren nodded. “I’ll take us there.”

The troop let themselves out the door and down the stairs. At the bottom, Soren flattened against the wall, and carefully cracked the door. Looking out, he opened it further until he could stick his head out and look in both directions. Certain no beasts lurked, he flung the door open, stepped out and turned the way they had come the previous night. The rest quickly followed him.

They trudged along for some time, and Tamarken noticed the buildings had become less thickly crowded. He could smell water. Sensing the river was near, he nearly jumped when a scream came from nearby.

“Damn, it’s a beasty. We gotta go!”

“Run!”

With that, the boys set out at a quick jog. Tamarken heard no sound of pursuit but knew that could be deceiving. Ahead he saw the shore of the river and behind him came the cry of the beasty. It was certainly closer.

Tamarken put everything he could into his run, soon catching up with Soren. “The river! We gotta get to it… and in it!”

By now, Tamarken heard the sound of running pads on the solid rocklike ground beneath him. Just a few more paces and they would be in the water. He hoped the beasties were as afraid of the water as the predators of the plains.

Ahead of him, he saw the splashing of each of the boys as they dashed into the shallows. As he caught up he yelled “Deeper! Deeper, head for the middle!”

As the current grabbed the boys, he twisted to keep Walkr’s face above water. On the shore, he saw the beasty. A great hairy thing with long, sharp teeth and pointy ears. It howled its’ frustration at once again missing its dinner.

Tamarken turned to keep an eye on the other boys. They were all close by, letting the current drag them down stream. Looking down at Walkr, he saw the terror and pain in the boy’s eyes. The dressing he had placed the night before had come off, and Tamarken made to push the wound under the cool water as they swept along.

***********

The current was brisk, but relatively smooth. The boys and Tamarken found that by floating on their backs, they could let the river carry them along. The beasty followed from the shore for a while, but as the last of the buildings finally disappeared, the beasty too turned back.

When at last he judged they were safe, Tamarken led them to the far shore, and pulled himself out. Each of the boys in turn soon reached the bank of the river and dragged out. They all lay for a while on sandy verge, then gathered around Tamarken.

Tamarken knelt beside Walkr and examined the wound. The cool water had cleansed it some, and had helped to drop the boy’s fever. He reached for his bag, and only then realized he didn’t have. He cursed.

“Is this what you want?” Rasha asked, pushing his bag at him. “I didn’t say anything. You were carrying Walkr. The bag isn’t that heavy.”

But when he pulled the parcel of powder from the bag, it was soaked. With nothing else to do, he spread the paste over Walkr’s wound, then bound it as best he could with a sodden bandage from the bag, his last.

“Where to now, Tamarken?”

“My people’s village is along the river. I just don’t know how far. We follow the river.”

For the rest of the day, then, the boys trudged along the banks of the river. They stopped frequently for Tamarken to rest. The boy was not heavy, and Tamarken was used to carrying burdens as his family moved from winter camp to summer camp and back. But even so, after a while, the Walkr’s weight dragged on him.

When it became apparent that the evening was getting darker, they stopped in a copse of trees. Finding the softest place to settle Walkr, Tamarken set the boys about gathering fallen wood. Even though the contents of his bag were still sodden he manage to eek a flame amongst the gathered twigs and grass and sticks.

“Gather as much as you can find, and if any animal comes near, grab Walkr and head for the water. Try not to get swept away. But if you do, drag yourself out on this shore and I’ll find you.”

“Where are you going?” Tamarken could hear the fear in Sahrn’s voice.

“Stay together, and you’ll be fine. I’m going to hunt for something for us to eat. I’m out of food.”

All the boys nodded their understaning. He approached Soren and held his hand out for the knife. Soren handed it over.

“Don’t let the fire go out. It’s how I’ll find you if the sun goes down. And… another thing. If it does get dark before I return, sit close to the fire, with your back to the river and watch. For anything.”

And with that he pushed into the grass and set out in search of anything with which to feed his charges.

Chapter 2

The leader of the youths led him along the expanse for several hundred yards, then turned into a side alley. All the while he could hear the beast chasing them getting closer and closer. Several turns later, they ducked through a doorway and the youth slammed a door behind them.

Tamarken leaned back against the all with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“No stopping plainster. We’re not safe yet.” To accentuate his comment he heard the breathing of the beast on the other side of the door, coupled with loud screeches and the scrabbling of claws on the door. “If we stay here, he’ll stay until he can get through.”

“Can he get through?”

“If he tries long enough. We aren’t going to give him a chance. It’s not far. And we don’t have to run.” The youth set off again, and squaring his shoulders, Tamarken followed.

They wandered through several corridors, then stopped at another door. The youth nodded at one of the boys who slipped through another room off to the side. A few moments later, the door in front of them opened and the boy stepped in. “It’s clear. At least I don’t hear nothin’.”

They all set out down another broad expanse past buildings that were slightly less damaged than those on the outskirts of the town. Tamarken counted doors as he went, at the twelfth door, the leader opened a door and entered. There were stairs in front of them, and they climbed up. Tamarken had never seen stairs before, but it didn't take too much effort to figure out they were a means of going higher. After passing three more doors, they opened the fourth, then stepped through to a long hallway. Several doors down, the leader tapped quietly, waiting with his ear to the door. A few moments later he nodded as the door opened an the troop entered.

Tamarken was only slightly startled when the door shut behind him.

“We’re here, now. You can throw your stuff there in the corner and have a seat.”

Tamarken did as was suggested, but squatted against the wall instead of sitting directly on the floor . Three of the boys who’d been with them sat as well, but the leader disappeared into a side room. He heard some mumbling and an affirmative, before the youth returned.

“I’m Rasha. These are my mates Sahrn, Thresh and Squint.”

“You their leader? How many other people are here?”

“No leader here, really. But I guess I do tend to take charge. No one’s stopped me yet. You know us. Or do you want to be known as Plainster?”

“Ah. Sorry. I’m Tamarken. You can call me that or plainster… whichever you prefer. Where’s the rest of your tribe?” At the blank looks on the boys faces he tried again. “The rest of your group, your family?”

“This is it, Ta… Tamarken? Tamarken. There’s no tribe, no family. Except us. Six people living here in hell.”

Tamarken was confused and it showed clearly on his face as he looked from boy to boy. “No body else?”

“No. At least we don’t think so. I mean, there used to be a bunch of us. Our parents, some grankas. A few other oldsters. I remember when we used up almost an entire building. Then the sickness came And they started dying. The oldsters and grankas first. Then a bunch of other kids. When it was over, I thought that was the end of it. Six of us boys, a girl - Satar, my pa and two other men, and Sahrn’s mada.”

“But it wasn’t over?”

“Well, it was… no more sicktimes. Then the booms and the ash. The three men took off to see what happened. They never came back.”

“What happened to Sahrn’s mada? Is she here, somewhere?”

“Nah. Satar left a door open. A beasty came. Got Satar and the mada.”

“I’m sorry. The booms. That was months ago. When did you lose the women folk?”

“Lost track of time. Been a long time though. Days blend in and out, especially with no sun. I guess maybe three months. Maybe more. Maybe less.”

“Where’s your clothes? Don’ you get cold? Or shamed?”

“Oh, we were plenty shamed at first. We’re used to it now. When the beasty came for mada and Satar we were all in bed. We heard the shrieks, the screams. We ran. Left our clothes behind. Can’t go back.”

“And no way to get more. So you survive here on your own? Food? Water?”

“There’s water here. No food. We kill small beasties from time to time. Babies, or non killers.”

“Who’s back there?” Tamarken nodded at the room that Rasha had gone into. “The one you talked to? Is that who closed the door, too?”

“Nope. Soren closed the door. He’s on watch. Back there is Walkr. He’s hurt. Tell us about you, Tamarken. And your plains people.”

“Not much to say. We’re a fairly big group, nearly fifty of us. I’m on huntquest. Or, I was until I came into this place of ancients. I’ll have to go back and confess, now.”

“Why’s that? What’s to confess? And what’s a huntquest anyhow?”

Tamarken relaxed then, sank to his bottom and stretched out his legs in front of him.

“I’ll answer. But first, you got anything to eat?”

Rasha looked at the other boys, then at the ground. “Sorry. No. Haven’t eaten in three days.”

“I thought as much. Here. I have some food. Not much, but perhaps enough to help a little.” He reached into his bag and pulled out several chunks of dried meat, then handed them to the boys. Rasha took three, then disappeared. Tamarken heard him in the back room, the one where the injured boy was. A few minutes later, he heard Rasha at the door, talking to Soren. He returned shortly and sat; it wasn’t until he took a bite that the other boys bit into their own jerky.

“Ijah. I said I am on huntquest. Among our people, when we reach sixteen years, we go on a two month huntquest. If we are successful, we come back as men, with a new name and game for the people. During the first part of the quest, we identify our guides, the ones among the beasts that will help us throughout life. I’ve identified my guide, the anckat. It lead me here. But that’s the problem. It is against the laws of our people to enter the place of the ancients. I will have to go back, now. Back to my father and the eldest and tell them I came here, that I followed my guide right into the one place I was not supposed to go. I’ll tell them, also, that as soon as I got here, and realized where I was, I turned to leave but realized I was being stalked. I’ll tell them everything. Maybe they’ll let me redo the quest.”

“If they do not? What then?”

“Truthfully, I tell you I do not know. No one has ever done this before. At least not from my tribe.”

“Ooww!” The cry came from where Rasha had spoken to the injured boy. Rasha rose to his feet to go and Tamarken rose, as well.

“Would you like me to check on him with you? I have some training in injuries.”

Rasha looked conflicted for a moment then shrugged and gestured for him to follow. Passing through the door, and then another one, Tamarken saw the injured boy on the floor in a corner. There was not much light entering the room, but immediately his nose alerted him to the problem.

“He was cut?”

“Ya.”

“It has taken fire and rots. Did you wash it?”

“Wash it? We’ve tried to make him comfortable, but this is the best we can do. But no, no washing it.”

“That is bad. And the rot is bad. I’m surprised the beasties haven’t tracked you down by the smell.”

“You said you could help.”

“I can, maybe. A little.” Tamarken dug into his bag, and rummaged a bit. Pulling a wrapped satchel from its depths, he carefully opened it.
“Look I can barely see this wound. Can we get more light in here? A fire?”

“We can’t start fires. Never learned before the old ones left us. And nothing here to burn.”

“I’ll do what I can. We’ll have to try again in the morning when the sun is up.” With that Tamarken wrapped the wound as best he could, covering it first with the healing powder his mother had given him. “Can we carry him into the other room with the rest of us? I want to have him close.”

Rasha nodded and reached for the boy’s shoulders to drag him.

“Wait, I’ll carry him.”

Chapter 1

This is the first thoughts of a new story... not sure where it's going to go... or if I'm going to bother taking it anywhere.

+++++++++++

Tamarken huddled noiselessly in the shelter of two collapsed walls, every sense alert. Mentally he cursed the grey skies and the ash-laden air that had hidden the sun for more weeks than he could remember. Ash and dust filled the air making it difficult to see far down the broad expanse of tumbled concrete before him. He could just make out the next building, gutted as the one in which he crouched. And the smell of the ash, acrid and burning in his nostrils prevented that sense from being of any help. Not even sound was any help. The ash, the dust, the broken walls, they all conspired to deaden every noise, and prevented him from getting sense of it's direction.

He gathered himself together, reached again for the wall, preparing to launch himself in his mad dash for the next building. His body tense. And then, the moment was gone, and he backed further into the corner rather than spring out for his run. He'd heard the sound again. Closer, he knew, but not the direction.

"Stay away from the place of the ancients, boy," his father had told him. Why hadn't he listened?

There. There it was again. Much closer this time. And this time he knew where it came from. He would have little time to react, he knew. It, whatever it was, was nearing the corner of his wall, less than a man's length from where he crouched. He changed the knife from one hand to the other and prepared to attack. His only hope, he knew, was in the element of surprise.

Another sound, pebbles disturbed from the rubble, cascaded from the small pile of rubble he'd seen as he'd ducked into this cubby. It was close now, whatever it was.

If it was the anckat that he'd been tracking, it had neatly turned the table on him. And anckats were good at turning tables. Many was the warrior scarred by the dagger-like claws of a wily 'kat. He thought to relax. "Yes, that's it. It's just the 'kat." But his body, his mind, refused to relax. "What if it's not?"

More pebbles. Then a rock rolled past the opening... and he knew. He'd nearly launched himself to attack, but held back at the end. Someone, or something, was trying to lure him out... and that meant someone. 'Kats didn't lure. Which was why he knew not to be too afraid of a 'kat. But his body was throbbing with fear.

A bead of perspiration ran down his nose and dripped onto the dust at his feel. More pooled in his armpits and groin. Just when he thought he'd not be able to handle the tension another minute, he saw movement.. A shadow closer to the building he'd been planning to dash toward than to himself, but coming toward him. The figure stopped several feet from the opening to his shelter.

"Come out, won't you? I thought you were a beast. Not a man." Whe he didn't move the figure stepped closer and spoke again. "You needn't fear. We're not going to harm you. And we know you're in there. I see you much more clearly than you think." It stepped closer, and the figure refined itself into a youth, younger than himself, and a naked one at that. Unarmed, too.

Still, he remained where he was, the blood pulsing in his temples and in his throat. We, the youth had said. So there was more than one. Two? Three? Did it matter? Could he taken on two? He knew he'd lose against more. Especially when he couldn't see them.

"For cryin' out loud, man. Come out. There's four of us, okay? And we'll not hurt you. We'd have left you alone t' begin with, 'cept we thought you might be dinner." He heard laughter from both sides of the opening now. "Just come out. Slowly would be good. There's no need for anyone to be hurt. Us or you. Whadaya say?"

"Tell your friends to stop hiding if you don't mean harm. All of you back away from the opening so I can get a good sight of you. Far enough I can't rush out and get all of you, if that makes you feel better." Tamarken yelled, deepening his voice, hoping to sound older.

The youth looked to each side of the opening and nodded then motioned to someone behind him to come up. At the same time, the youth backed several paces from the opening. Soon four naked youth, all boys, stood with him.

"Will that do? There ain't no more."

Tamarken paused a moment longer, then decided. He reached down and gathered his bag and stepped to the opening of his shelter, such as it was. He looked to each side and saw no one else. It didn't matter, he knew. The place could be swarming with others and he'd not necessarily see them. Another step took him out into the open, his knife held in front of him.

"There, that's not so bad, is it?" the leader of the youths said quietly. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me. I'm not sure I trust you, either. But in the end, there's no choice, is there?" It was more of a statement than a question. Tamarken shrugged.

"No words?"

"What's to say? What now? Do I go my way, or do you take me somewhere I don't wanna go?"

"You can go. We really did just think you were a beast. We've not eaten much of late. But we don't eat humans. Even plainsters... you are a plainster, right?"

"Uh, plainster?"

The youth sighed heavily. "You come from outside the city, from out in the plains, right?"

"I guess so. We call this the Place of the Ancients... are you ancients?"

The leader giggled, and all the others followed along. "Ancients? Us? We're boys, that's it. But yeah, this place, our elders told us it was once a great city. If you don't live here, you live out there. Those are the plains."

"Guess that makes me a... a plainster. Are you a... cityster?"

There were more giggles at that, and Tamarken couldn't help himself, and joined in.

"We're just us. Plainsters and us."

Tamarken grew serious. "I can go huh?" He hoisted his bag to his shoulder and took a step towards what he thought was the edge of the city.

"You can, but if you go that way, it'll take you a lot longer than if you go THAT way. That's the way you came."

"You've been following me? I thought you didn't know I was a man."

"We didn't. But we knew something was moving ahead of us. You make enough noise to wake the ancients themselves."

Tamarken reddened. "I... I... really? I'm that loud?"

"Loud enough. Look plainster. It's nearly dark. There are some beasties here that would think nothing of you. Spend the night with us. We'll lead you to the edge of the city tomorrow morning."

As if to accent his words, a sound, between a screech and a roar came from somewhere not too far away. The boys became agitated and Tamarken, great warrior that he was, felt his stomach roil. "Your offer of shelter seems wise."

With that, the youths turned and headed in the direction that he'd planned on going. The leader held back until he was even with Tamarken. "Dude, I hope you can run. 'Cause I think we should." With that, all five began dashing up the expanse.

Behind him, more screams were heard. And the sound of something large running.

Welcome!

Hi all, welcome to my Dreamwidth site. This will be solely for stories I may (or may not) write.

My current story is, I think, a short story... we'll see where it takes us. It's called "The Communicator". Here are links to each chapter:

Chapter 1	Chapter 7	Chapter 13	Chapter 19
Chapter 2	Chapter 8	Chapter 14
Chapter 3	Chapter 9	Chapter 15
Chapter 4	Chapter 10	Chapter 16
Chapter 5	Chapter 11	Chapter 17
Chapter 6	Chapter 12	Chapter 18

Enjoy reading, feel free to leave feedback in the replies... PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave feedback in the replies!

Eric

The Communicator, Chapter 19

First Chapter

Last Chapter

Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!

Brevix stood at his viewscreen, surveying the broad expanse of the planet below him. Just above the horizon of the planet, he watched the Drragh transport turn and move away. He turned to his communicator panel, and waved his hand over it.

“Yes?”

“Skipper, Bridge. The captain of the Drragh transport has signaled to say they’re leaving. He wishes you good flying. His exact words were ‘Tell your captain we wish him fair winds upon which to soar, and a successful hunt!”

“Signal back ‘May your hunt be fruitful and feed your families for weeks!’”

“Sir?”

“It’s a traditional exchange between Drragh. He honored me with it, I can only return the honor.”

“Sir. Bridge out.”

Sticking his head into his sleeping chamber, he saw Hourna stepping from the shower.

“Hou, get Nautewlus and join me in the mess. We need to talk about the clones.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Stepping into the corridor he turned to his right and set off briskly.

Moments after arriving in the officers’ mess, he was joined by his Chief Investigator and First Officer. He waved them into their normal seats, then set up three mugs of tea, putting one before each of them. He sat down and sighed quietly, then sipped.

“We need to discuss the clones. We’ve now utilized clones on five missions. In each previous case the clones were semi-sapient, mostly utilized in dangerous environments. I didn’t have any qualms about having the few that survived re-vatted. But, there’s something different about this batch.”

“Something different? I’ll say. You even said it yourself. The others were all semi-sapient. They couldn’t have survived long anywhere. These clones, these humans, were designed fully sapient, fully aware. Did you really ever think that we’d re-vat them? I never did.”

“Yes, actually, you did, Lu. When we first decided to hatch this batch, we all talked about re-vatting them.”

“Aye, you did that, Lu.” Hou turned to Brevix. “I don’t see the problem. It’s not like they’re real. They’re artificial. You even call them “clone”, not by their names or their designations.”

“I call them clone until introduced. These are sapient. Their living, breathing, thinking sentients.”

It was obvious Hourna didn’t really have the stomach for the discussion, as he let the topic drop. “Well, what DO we do with them, then?”

“That’s why I asked you two here. We need to figure this out soon.”

“Skipper, I might be able to make the decision easier. They came to me last night and asked me about this very topic. It seems one of them read a little more in our databases than we thought. He read references to the previous batches.”

“What did you tell them?”

“They told me, actually. Skipper, I think things will get ugly if you try re-vatting.”

“I have no intention of doing so, but I still need to know what we should do with them.”

“So, sir, Hiram spoke for everyone. He said two of the men, Boris and Jeffy, would like to stay here on Earth. They’ve been busy working on setting up identities for themselves. They want to go into cryptozoology.”

“Crypto what?”

“Sir, the majority of earthers believe dragons to be fictitious or mythological beings. They were unaware of the reality of the Drragh. Cryptozoology is the study of creatures that some believe to exist but that others or even the majority believe to be mythological. There are numerous such creatures on the planet. Because of what these clones of ours have learned, they want to investigate, see if they can find what the truth behind the stories is, if possible.”

“They understand we will not come back for them? I will not leave communications gear behind for them to contact us.”

“They understand, yes. And are prepared to go it alone. Especially if we can afford to give them each a bit of a nest egg.”

“How much of a nest egg? And are you going to pay this out of your pocket?”

“Well, as it turns out, sir, not much of one. It seems a fairly common meta that we have in abundance on board is extremely rare, and extremely valuable on the planet. Gold.”

“Gold? Seriously? Let them each have a thousand kilos, then. Is that enough? Should I give them more?”

“I’ll ask sir. That leaves ten more clones sir. They’d all like to explore the universe, be the first of their kind to see beyond their planet.”

“Why? They’ll never be allowed to return to share their experiences with earthers.”

“Exploration for the sake of exploration, skipper. It’s really why we are all out here, isn’t it? Would you stop today, if you were told you had to go home now and never see more, or continue on and never again go home?”

Brevix and Hourna both snorted. “Not likely. I see your point. I don’t have room on the Mustafir for ten more crew.”

“No, we don’t. But we do have room for four additional crew. Hiram, Charlie and two others snapped those up - if you’re willing, that is. The remaining six all have done research and have expressed an interest in applying to several research agencies. They’d do research, and in turn be subject of non-invasive research.”

“Sounds to me like they solved my problems for me. Anything else?”

“No, not really sir. But, you should be aware I happen to know that two of the four remaining are doing so because,” she paused and made eye contact with Hourna. “Because they hope to ‘jump your bones’ is the idiom they used, skipper.”

Hourna laughed loudly and slapped the table. “I knew it! I knew it! Speaking as your lover, sir, they’re welcome to try!”

Brevix turned a dark shade of purple and sighed.

“Sir, it seems the humans also are quite taken with your lovely bottom parts.”

The Communicator, Chapter 18

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Hourna growled in irritation.

“Didn’t we just call them?”

“Yeah, and they weren’t available. So we left a message, and they called back. After our sleep cycle began. As usual.”

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! Screee

Brevix crawled out of bed, extricating himself from his lover’s arms. He reached for his uniform.

“You too, lover boy. I want you there, in uniform.”

Down the hall they heard the voices of his Communications Officer, Powrlen and the visiting technician, though the voices were too muted to know what they were saying. Then he heard the sound of Powrlen’s slap, as he killed the claxon and opened the channel.

“Choorllargh! Markhta Brevix!”

“I’ll get him sir. One minute.”

Before Powrlen could get to the door, Brevix pulled it open and stepped out, followed by his First Officer.

“Good, you’re in uniform, Powrlen. Get Nautewlus, I want her in uniform too.”

Powrlen nodded, and returned to the Media Center with Brevix and Hourlen, tapping on his tablet as he went.

As he entered the Media Center and approached the vispad, Brevix was momentarily caught off-guard. Not only was the Overlord glaring at him from the screen, another Drragh was with him, and in a sub-window he saw the countenance of his employer, Syndicator Strogonar. He took his place, and motioned his First Officer and Communications Officer to stand behind him. He heard the sound of running from the corridor, and a moment later, Chief Investigator Nautewlus slid in beside him. He turned to the vispad.

“Overlord Chklarna, Syndicator Strogonar and…?” he left the greeting hanging, hoping the Overlord or the other Drragh would provide him a name.

“Commander Brevix. bizge koşulup, saga jana senin ekipaj Demek, jakşı. Men sen h jok menen alektengen emes, körö. Andan da maanilüüsü, siz kiygen! Körünüp turganday, meni menen, men senin Syndicator Strogonar bar, oşondoy ele Under-Overlord Phkrena ... jana dagı dele jaman pikirleşüünün negizgi ala elekpiz!”

Brevix turned and faced Powrlen. “What in the…”

“Skipper! I swear. For the last two days, Trafferthus and I have been working with Under-Overlord Phkrena there. Not once in all that time…”

“I’ll deal with you later. You too, Trafferthus.” Brevix turned back to the vispad, and opened his mouth. But before he could speak, the Under-Overlord leaned forward and adjusted a control on the Overlord’s communicator panel.

“Oh by the putrid clouds of Vzeflaban, Your Lordship. You’ve been fiddling with the controls again! I’ve told you to leave the settings alone! Here, try it now.”

The Overlord cleared his throat. “I said, Commander Brevix. So nice of you and your crew to join us. And I see you are not engaged in copulating. Even better, you are dressed! As you see, with me I have your Syndicator Strogonar as well as Under-Overlord Phkrena... and you still haven't gotten your worthless communicator fixed! Alas, now I am disappointed. I had so looked forward to watching my crew, should you ever find them, devour your communications officer!” He turned slightly to face Powrlen. “Communications Officer Powrlen, you are off the hook. And the menu.” He turned back to Brevix. “Do you have anything satisfying to report, Commander. Your Communications Officer is off the hook. You, however, are not.”

“Well, Overlord, we do have something rather satisfying to report, as it turns out. Chief Investigator Nautewlus, would you do the honors?”

“Indeed, Skipper. Overlord Chklarna, Under-Overlord Phkrena, Syndicator, following up on information we discovered about your crew’s First Officer, Lagarfljótsormur,” She was interrupted by the Under-Overlord.

“Oh, very good missy. You pronounced that like a Drragh!”

“Ahem, yes. Thank you Under-Overlord. I’ve spent many hours practicing! Anyhow, following up on this information, we found the location where rumor had it that your crew had recently performed an 'Eshal-Kuvargh'.”

“A celebratory sky dance? That would imply they all survive?”

“Yes, sir, a celebratory sky dance. From that location we traced them through under water tunnels…” Again, the Overlord interrupted.

“That explains the ridiculous stories about them hiding underwater!”

Chief Investigator Nautewlus took a deep breath. “Yes. Sir if… well, anyhow, we followed these tunnels using a sensor drone, as we tracked from overhead. As we passed over one of the local land masses, we got a reading on a live Drragh. It was our first real evidence, sir. Until this time we had been following clues only. We spotted your crew’s captain, Neskaupstaður….”

“Again, very good young lady.”

She sighed again. “Thank you, Under-Overlord. As it turns out, the locals had known of her, they called her ‘Nessie’.”

There was silence for a moment. Then the Syndicator spoke up.

“Well done Commander Brevix! You and your crew will be getting bonus for this!”

“Indeed Commander. You, too, are off the hook. I shall have a transport in your area very soon. May I speak with Neskaupstaður?”

“My Communications Officer will patch you through, Overlord. They are still on the surface, but we have a comlink open to them.”

A moment later, after appropriately signing off from the Overlord and the Syndicator, the vispad faded to black. Everyone sighed heavily.

“So, Skipper, can I please get my hands on your lovely bottom parts, now?”

The Communicator, Chapter 17

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!

Brevix stood transfixed by the waves of the ocean. It had been years since he had been home to Keir. He missed the cerulean blue waters of the shallow seas where he had swum and romped as a child, the saffron strands of sand along the shores. Here, the waters were a much darker hue.

Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!

He sighed and turned from the screen. Waving a hand over the communicator on his desk, he responded. "Yes?"

"Skipper, Bridge. We've come out of orbit over the island called Iceland. Looks a lovely place sir. Not at all as icy as expected."

"Yes. Well, we're not here for a vacation - anything?" Brevix called the exterior view up on his screen. Indeed, it was a beautiful place.

"We've scanned the island extensively. It's a volcanic island, appears to be part of a great mid-oceanic ridge. One of the main volcanoes, Öræfajökull, has several peaks. We found the peak called Hvannadalshnúkur, and there, we have found some traces of vakorianite."

"A significant enough amount to indicate Drragh are still here?"

"Negative, Skipper. Science believes the Drragh to have been gone for at least three Drragh months. But, skipper, this is a volcano. Perhaps vulcan action has obscured much of the evidence?"

"Possibly. Head east. See if you can find any sign of where this battle occurred."

"Aye, skipper. Bridge out."

As their veiled ship skimmed not far above the waves, sensors from time to time picked out creatures living beneath. They had spotted schools of various fish, and behemoths even larger than the largest of beasts in Keiran seas.

The slow pace of the Mustafir gave Brevix time to go over reports. The infernal reports seemed to multiply incessantly. He stopped and tapped his teeth. Unfortunately, the waters of the ocean would have long ago blotted out any chance of their sensors discovering vakorianite, but deceased Drragh would have left sufficient indications on the seabed that maybe their sensors, focused properly would detect.

* * * * *

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Before he could respond, his First Officer and lover, Hourna, came through the door into his study.

"Brev, there's no sign of deceased or decaying Drragh on the sea bed. That could be because the bodies are long gone, of course. Though, records indicate that Drragh corpses are known to not decay for decades, even hundreds of Drragh years. However, there are vents along the sea bed. And at least five of those appear to be open in this vicinity."

Brevix ruffled his brows and his ears sagged. "And no vakorianite, whatsoever?"

"No, lover, none. Oh, don't look so forlorn. Here, let me at those lovely bottom parts..."

"Knock it off, Hou. Pick the largest of those vents and follow it. Can we get down there and..."

"No, no, no. We're far too large, and while we can submerge, we're not designed for submergence and movement. Perhaps we should, however, investigate more closely?" He waved his hand over the communicator on Brevix's desk.

"Bridge."

"First Officer. Take us down to the largest vent. Prepare a probe." He turned to Brevix. "That should cover that. About that probe sir... perhaps..."

"Not now, Hou. When this is over, we'll discuss further probes."

First Officer Hourna masked his disappointment, and slipped from the room.

When the Bridge notified him they were at the sea bed, Brevix set his report aside and joined the Bridge crew. Staring at the viewscreen on the bridge, he surveyed the massive opening of the vent.

"It's large enough for a Drragh, sir."

"It's large enough for several, Beatrice. The question is. Are there any in there? Is there an atmosphere at any point in that vent? Science, what do the sensors say?"

"Sensors don't give us much data, sir. We have a probe ready."

"Do it. I'll be in my office."

Hours of slow progress followed as the sensor traced the vent, with the ship slowly overhead. Periodically, his science officer asked for a closer view and they'd dropped beneath the waves.

* * * * *

Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!

Brevix responded to the hail from the Bridge.

"We're coming up on a large land mass, sir, not the continent. According to the information that the clones and Chief Investigator Nautewlus provided, it's probably what they call the British Isles, sir. Scotland to be specific."

"And the vent?"

"Continues on... no, wait, sir, not Scotland, it's the Faroe Islands. And sir, there's vakorianite there. Lots of it!"

"Fantastic! Get down there and find them!"

But the islands had proven void of Drragh and they continued on. When they did pass over land onto Scotland, his science team reported larger quantities of vakorianite. And an hour later, alarm bells began going off.

"Skipper, there's enough vakorianite here to fill our holds and then some!" There was a pause as the Science officer peered more closely at his instruments.

"Skipper! I've got Drragh! They're here!"

The Communicator, Chapter 16

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Brevix stood before a large plotting view of the planet they were surveying. The hours since the last communication with the Drragh Overlord had been vexing. Would the Drragh really eat any of his crew? The sound of the door alert roused him from his concentration. He thought about reaching for some part of his clothing then shrugged. He was Keiran. And as captain of the ship, the crew were supposed to be accepting of the Keiran values. The Drragh's attitudes be damned, he thought.

Chirrup! Chirrup!

"Enter!" he rose his voice slightly, knowing the ships computer system would relay his command to whoever stood outside. The door swished open, admitting Chief Investigator Nautewlus and another clone. A female, this time.

"Captain, this is 13CI31549. She's taken the name Beatrice."

Brevix was just a little surprised to find the human clone standing before him nearly as naked as himself. The classes on Syndicate cultures seemed to be paying off.

"Beatrice, Nautewlus. What can I do for you?"

"Captain, I've been researching the missing Drragh crew's senior officers. I don't quite know how we missed it this long, but I've stumbled across the First Officer, sir."

The unexpected news made Brevix's ears perk. "You mean Lagarfljótsormur?" Brevix asked, as he grabbed for the edge of his desk to steady himself.

"Yes sir, and it was in plain sight. The people you refer to as 'earthers' even had its name right, Lagarfljótsormur. I had done several searches using approximations of its name. Then, this morning, I typed in its real name, and got a hit."

"Captain," Nautewlus spoke up, "The reference in question is a folk story told on an island in the northern ocean... here." Her holograph of the planet appeared and a large island glowed bright blue. "The earthers call this Iceland, the ocean is called the Atlantic Ocean." At the wrinkled brow on Brevix's face, she added "in case you were interested, sir."

Brevix nodded at Nautewlus then turned to Beatrice. "Go on."

"Skipper, the tale tells of a gathering of dragons, and possibly a battle... well, here, let me read it to you. It's not too long.

Aye, and it came to pass in days of yore, soon after our ancestors settled the lovely Isle, that they beheld in the sky a great omen, a great sign.

It was a warm and sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, when suddenly the skies darkened. There, swirling in the air, blotting out the sun, was seen such a terrifying sight, as none had seen before or seen since.

A hundred dragons of all colors and shapes and sizes gathered. And a great battle ensued. The battle raged for four and twenty days and four and twenty nights. Each day, more dragons were defeated and plunged into the eastern sea, until on the last day of the battle, one dragon survived.

And this dragon we knew was Lagarfljótsormur, protector of our Isle. Lagarfljótsormur

shrieked out his victory shout, then settled atop Hvannadalshnúkur, the tallest of mountains. For several days, Lagarfljótsormur kept vigil.

Then, on the fourth day after the defeat of the other dragons, Lagarfljótsormur took once more to the sky and flew east. Emitting one last shriek, Lagarfljótsormur plunged into the sea, and never again was he seen."

There was silence in the room. Finally, Brevix spoke.

"A battle? Between a hundred dragon? There isn't a hundred Drragh here."

"Sir, the story is in a genre called folklore. There might have only been two. Exaggeration is not unheard of in these things."

Chief Investigator Nautewlus was busy poking at her tablet. "Skipper, I've been looking at our Drragh files. I don't believe it was a battle being reported here, rather I suspect it is a Drragh ritual known as an 'Eshal-Kuvargh'. It's a form of celebration. And it can be for any number of reasons, but it normally takes the form of a sky-dance, and can last up to thirty Drragh days."

"Okay, then. I'm glad I do not have to report to Chklarna that his crew killed each other! Get us to this Iceland. See if we can find anything new. Beatrice? Was there something you wanted to add? Oh for the love of... My eyes are up HERE!"

"No sir! Nothing. It's just... the reports are true sir. Your bottom parts..."

At that Nautewlus grabbed the clone by her arm and pulled her from the room. Brevix clapped his hand over his face.

Next Chapter

The Communicator, Chapter 15

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Brevix rolled away from Hourna who as usual was unwilling to release his grasp on Brevix. Lying on his back, he threw off the covers, and started to get out of bed.

"Hou, sweety. I love you grasping me like that, but I need to go answer this. You know it'll be the Overlord."

"I know, but I love doing this as much as you enjoy me doing it! Does he always have to call at the worst time?"

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! Screee

Down the hall he heard Powrlen talking to someone, he assumed this would be the visiting specialist, Trafferthus, and then more loudly as the connection opened. "Good evening sir..."

"Choorllargh! Markhta Brevix!"

Brevix flopped back on the bed. "I know, I know. I..." Just then Powrlen knocked on the door, then opened it and walked in. Simultaneously, the comm screen on the wall in front of his bed flashed, and the scowling face of the Drragh Overlord peered out at him.

"yek’anyewi redati ... yihi maleti mini maleti newi be’inē fīti ‘irak’usi bemehonē k’iri yemīyasenyi āyidelehumi, kefurēni bemagaredi yedoragonini āmalikitochi mak’aleli ālebiwoti? yihi āyitagešimi!"

"Powrlen, I'm not going to wait for the Overlord to eat you!" Brevix yelled furiously at his Communications Officer. "I'm going to kill you and feed you to the... uh... I... for.... Hourna! Stop, before... uh."

Hourna released his hold and Brevix jumped up as Powrlen spoke out. "But skipper, I didn't transfer the call here! I didn't! And we had it fixed. The new one worked fine!"

At that moment Trafferthus ran in to the room. "Skipper, I... I... oh shit! I accidentally transferred the call and..." he trailed off seeing the state Brevix was in.

"You're a specialist and you accidentally transferred the comm. I'll deal with you... and YOU, Powrlen... when this call is over. Overlord, I will call you back in a few minutes." He killed the comm and scrabbled for his uniform. Looking towards Trafferthus and Powrlen, he rolled his eyes. "Gentlemen, my eyes are up here."

Five minutes later, having composed himself somewhat, he stood before the vispad in the Media Center and nodded. Trafferthus poked at the console, and the screen erupted in a flash of red light, revealing the countenance of Overlord Chklarna who began speaking before Brevix could open his mouth.

"I'm glad to see you dressed, keiran male. Your display, whether intentional or not, and for some reason I'll accept that it was not, is an affront to our Gods."

"I was unaware same sex..."

"Sex of all sorts. The Gods care not who you have it with, they only expect it to stay behind closed doors. And though I am shocked to my very core, I shall overlook it. IF you have an acceptable report."

As they had been speaking, Chief Investigator Nautewlus had stepped up beside Brevix. He held up a hand. "I don't need to know what he said. It doesn't matter. He wants a report. I can give that." Turning to the vispad, he addressed the Drragh. "Overlord, since your last communique with us, we've had a major breakthrough. We believe we have accounted for all of your crew except two. Only your captain and his first officer are unaccounted for. We have just investigated part of this world where we believe at least fifteen..."

"You keep saying 'we believe', Captain. This doesn't sound very convincing."

"I'm saying this, sir, because what we are finding in the reports are names that sound similar to the names of your crew, but may not be at all related. What we know is this. In this last region of Earth, there were reports of at least fifteen beings that are referred amongst the locals as dragons. Sir, you can, of course, see that there is similarity between 'dragon' and 'Drragh'. We read in the reports of fifteen names similar to your crews, or at least many of the names are similar. On top of that, sir, sensors identified huge quantities of vakorianite. You may not be aware that this is not found naturally on Earth."

"I am aware, captain, that vakorianite only occurs where Drragh are or have been. What is your next step?"

"Overlord, more and more, it seems apparent your crew are here and still alive. We will keep following up on leads until we find them."

"Very well. And Captain. I shall pray for you. I shall pray that you are as tasty as you appear, for I intend to eat you as well as that useless Communications Officer of yours. I shall pray that the gods of Drragh will forgive you your effrontery." The screen went blank.

"That went" he paused. "Well."

"Sir," Nautewlus began, "You didn't mention the stories of the Drragh being killed by human warriors."

"You saw how furious he was. Would YOU want to report that to him?" He turned towards the communications specialists. "Gods of Drragh be blasted, Traffertus! Why the hell are you staring at me like that? And down there, to boot?"

"I was just wondering in what way he found you tasty looking, sir. Because you certainly look tasty to me, and not as food."

At this, Hourna, who was standing in the doorway bellowed out a guffaw. "Well, lover boy, why don't you invite him to find..."

"Shut up, Hourna. Or I'll replace you. And fix the blasted Communications gear!"

Next Chapter

The Communicator, Chapter 14

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Brevix tapped his teeth with an index finger. Would this day never end? Since the last communication with Overlord Chklarna, his Communications Officer, Powrlen, had been moping around the ship, sullenly responding to his requests for information. The new communicator had arrived, and Powrlen was now sequestered in the Media Center with the visiting specialist. His Chief Engineer was sending him endless streams of reports complaining about the ongoing stress to the system due to remaining constantly veiled. And many of his crew had been complaining about the newly enforced dress standards.

Chirrup! Chirrup!

This time the sound of the warning signal was accompanied by a pounding at the door. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he then swept his hand over the panel releasing the door lock, and it swung open revealing his Chief Investigator, Nautewlus, and one of the human clones. The two entered and stood before his desk.

"Skipper, this is 06CI31549. She's taken the name 'Opal'."

Brevix nodded a greeting at the clone and maintained his focus on Nautewlus. "And?"

"She has a report sir."

"Of course she does. Do tell, Six. Uh, I mean Opal."

"Thank you sir." Opal's voice instantly grated at Brevix, but he couldn't quite determine why. "Sir, Pearl and I, that is Thirteen and I, we've been tasked with surveilling a part of the planet referred to, locally, as Europe. Sir, there is a remarkable body of information regarding what we strongly believe are the drragh."

"Remarkable, huh. Which one of the crew are they mentioning?"

"Well sir, that's the important part of this. There are numerous reports, and each only mentions a single Drragh. But in the one geographic area, no less than fourteen Drragh are mentioned." Opal poked at her tablet for a moment and a holograph of the planet appeared on his desk. "The region highlighted in bright red is Europe, sir." The red faded to a brownish outline and another zone within it pulsed blue. "The blue is an island nation they call England. Or the United Kingdom. It has several appellations. Here, skipper, we've identified separate references to at least seven creatures that we believe to be Drragh."

"Do we have names?"

"Well, some, sir. We have identified Schmargh, ddraiggoch, ddraiggwyn, Blue Ben, Knucklerhole, Bestraggahn and Drekhæð."

"Most of those do not sound Drragh. Why do you think they are?"

"Much of this is hypothesis, sir. But, Schmargh bears a strong linguistic similarity to Schmagrach. It's reaching but plausible. Ddraiggoch can be translated as red dragon in a language local to that area..."

"Sir, if you recall a few reports back, the communicator translated Overlord Chklarna's comments into Welsh," interjected Chief Investigator Nautewlus.

"Yes, yes. Go on, Opal."

"Ddraighgwyn, sir, is translated as white dragon in the same language, sir. The two dragons were reported to be fighting between themselves a lot sir. But, the crew files given us by the Drragh," she paused for a moment then continued. "I mean, given to you by the Drragh, before the mission began indicates two drragh, one white and one red. These two could be the two mentioned. That would be Olezaharrgh, the white drragh, and Bomorizacgh the red one."

"I'll buy that logic, please continue."

"Then there's Blue Ben. This one is harder. There was a black drragh who might have been Blue Ben. Azuquokan. Knucklerhole might be Nuexlehaerggh. Bestraggahn... to be honest sir, I don't know how they got that one right!"

"Indeed. Perhaps this one spent more time with the earthers?"

"Possibly. And finally Drekhæð would almost certainly be Drekhæðlaegh."

The blue outlined England faded to the same brownish outline as the rest of Europe, and another area began to glow. "The yellow zone, is Scandinavia. Here we find reference to two more, Nidhogg and Jǫrmungandr."

"I can see those. Very similar to their Drragh name. Any others?"

"Six more, skipper. Thyrus from Italy," Italy glowed briefly, "Tarasque and Vouivre from France," Italy ceased glowing and France glowed. In turn three more areas glowed, as Opal named more Ddragh. "Wawelski in Poland, Vahagn in Armenia and Tiamat in Babylon." The last site was considerable further afield from the rest of Europe, but before Brevix could comment, Opal addressed the fact. "There are more recent references to Tiamat closer to Europe, for instance in Turkey, which the locals consider to be part of Europe."

Brevix had pulled up a list of the Drragh and was evaluating it.

"I see, so, let me see. Thyrus might be Tragushnagh. Tarasque, Taraskehna. Vouivre, Vroarvghra. Wawelski?"

"That one we just don't know sir. It's named for a location in Poland. We're researching that one further."

"Very well. Vahagn is probably Varghanagh. Tiamat is Tamossarrgh? I suppose. That one seems farfetched, but I'll go with it for now. Are any of the reports on these Drragh, if that is who they are, recent?"

"Within the last thousand earth years, sir. And sir? It's not good. There are several reports of the humans killing them."

"Well, we best hope we find evidence that they did not. Because you all know if there's a dead one, Chklarna will launch an invasion. The outcome will not be good."

Opal blanched at the tone in his voice, and Nautewlus quickly interjected. "Sir, I've notified the watch officer of the best set of coordinates. At your order, we'll be underway. Opal and I will get started on analysis of local reports as soon as we arrive."

"As you suggest."

Nautewlus poked her tablet, and the two investigators quickly departed. As they did, Brevix detected just the slightest indication the ship was in motion. He turned back to his reports.

Next Chapter

The Communicator, Chapter 13

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Hourna rolled over and grabbed Brevix firmly. "Wake up lover boy. Sounds like you're about to be summoned."

Brevix sighed and tried to roll out of the bed, then grabbed Hourna's hand and pried it loose. "I can't leave if you hold on to me that tight!" Then, he turned again and rolled out of bed.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! Screee

Brevix hurriedly pulled his uniform tunic over his head and struggled into his uniform trousers.

"What, no show for the Overlord?"

Brevix grinned at Hourna. "Nope, you're gonna have to forgo my lovely bottom parts for a little while longer." Arranging himself, he walked purposefully out to the hall, then turned left toward the Media Center. Nautewlus hurriedly joined him as he entered the room and took his place before the vispad.

"I acknowledged the call and indicated there'd be a brief pause, sir. I just want you to know that I spent most of the last two wake cycles on the vis with Under-Overlord Phkrena. I'm sure this is working now. She was very helpful."

"Wonderful. Patch our Overlord through, then. Let's not keep him waiting."

With that, Powrlen toggled another control, and the red dot in the center of the vispad expanded to a flash and exposed the glaring left eye of the Drragh Overlord.

"Comander Brevix. Pam rwyf wedi bod yn aros? Dim ots. Rhowch i ... BETH?!?!?! Rydych chi ddim wedi llwyddo i weithredu'ch offer cyfathrebu? Gan yr holl nwyon putrid y Venercatchyar gwych mawr..."

At this latest, Chkarna, Nautewlus and Brevix all turned to face Powrlen.

"Kitty, I'm warning you. This had better NOT be a putlaman joke!"

"Sir! Ask Phkre.... Under-Overlord Phkrena! We talked for several hours yesterday! IT WORKED!"

"It does not work now. I shall ask my Under Overlord. You best not be lying. Now. Do you have anything to report, Commander Brevix? You had better."

Brevix turned to Nautewlus and nodded.

"Overlord, research recently led us to the Indian subcontinent. At Commander Brevix's orders, I sent you a map of this world. You should be able to locate India. It is luminous green..."

"Putrid green, more like. But, go on."

"Yes. Well, anyhow this highly populous region contains numerous temples containing statues of what they refer to as Naga. The Naga, sir, are, we are reasonably certain, members of your lost crew. Four are mentioned, and their Earther names bare resemblance to Shyarcha, Vhrachuggha, Manchyarka and Takshaka. It seems these four were viewed mostly positively by the earthers. The first two were seen as protectors and familiars of two of their deities. The third, Manchyarka, was merely mentioned as the sister of Shyarcha. Takshaka was very feared. Apparently, the earthers believed he was highly venomous."

"Venomous? My Drragh are not venomous. And you keep saying were and was. Past tense. Are these all believed dead, then?"

Brevix interrupted here. "No Overlord. As with all the previous sightings and reports, the Drragh are no longer encountered. They haven't been spotted in many Earth years. In fact, they are generally considered mythological creatures, now. But we do detect vast amounts of vakorianite. So, we know the legends are true. Your Drragh were there."

Nautewlus glanced at Brevix, then added "As in all the other reports, Overlord, it seems the four departed the area, and took up residence under water."

"You keep telling me my people are underwater. But we are not capable of living underwater. How is this, then?"

"Sir, we don't know. We have extended our scans to the oceans of this planet. We do detect numerous underwater caverns. Perhaps..."

"I do not wish perhaps. I wish answers. I wish to see my crew. I wish..." Overlord Chklarna turned his full gaze on Powrlen, "to devour your... 'kitty'!"

Before anyone could respond, the vispad flashed then darkened. Brevix continued to face the vispad. "Nautewlus, what was that he said? And what language?"

In a quiet, subdued voice his Chief Investigator responded. "It was Welsh, sir. He said 'Commander Brevix. Why have I been kept waiting? Nevermind. Give me a... WHAT?!?!?! You still haven't gotten your communications gear functioning? By all the putrid gases of the shining great Venercatchyar...'"

"I see." He tugged at the hem of his tunic, then turned to face Powrlen.

The R'Kaccy was visibly shaken, and staring perplexedly at his communications gear. "It WORKED. It WORKED. By all our goddesses and gods, it WORKED. Skipper..." Powrlen looked with pleading eyes at Brevix.

"Perhaps what our kitty needs is a nice view of your pretty bottom parts?" Hourna had joined them in the center. Nautewlus giggled.

"Not now, Hourna. Not now. This is not good. Powrlen, open communications with Strogonar Andop. Tell them we need a new comm unit, along with a topnotch technician out here immediately. If I need to go to the Syndicator directly, I will. We need this here and installed before the next communication. Or you may not be the only one he wants to devour."

"Yes sir. But sir..."

"Yes?"

"I AM a topnotch communications technician. I'm about the best."

"I know kitty. I know. But maybe two of you can figure this out."

Brevix turned toward the door, and motioned Hourna to follow him. As he passed out of the room, he heard Powrlen low behind him.

"Don't call me kitty."

Next Chapter

The Communicator, Chapter 12

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chirrup! Chirrup!

"Godesses, Hourna. Have my crew no sense of the hours?"

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Brevix grumbled then spoke more loudly, "Go away! Check with me during normal hours."

A muffled voice responded "Skipper, it's Nautewlus. And Two. This really can't wait!"

"Two?"

"Clone 02CI31549. The one we call 'Boris'".

"Give me a moment," Brevix grumbled, then reached for the knee-length tunic he had been lounging in and only recently shed at Hourna's insistence. "I'll be back," then more loudly "Go to the office, I'll be right there."

A few moments found him leaving back against his desk as Nautewlus and Boris entered the room.

"Make it quick. I was busy. Boris? My eyes are up here Clone, not below my waist."

"So I see. Sir." Brevix wasn't sure what it was he was detecting in Boris's voice, but he wasn't sure he liked it. "We felt it important to come immediately with this information. We've got a lead on a small group of the Drragh. They were reported with great frequency from about the time of the Drragh ship's disappearance until about a month or two... er, Drragh months, that is... ago."

"Which ones?"

"Shyarcha, Vhrachuggha, Manchyarka and Takshaka."

"Please don't tell me the earthers in that area killed or tried to kill them?"

"No sir. In fact, it seems the first two were, and perhaps still are, regarded rather highly. They appear to be considered either protectors or familiars to local deities."

"Just where do we find these particular Drragh?"

"Most recently, sir, they were reported in a region of Earth known as India, though they seem to have been active throughout all of that region... a region earthers refer to as Southeast Asia."

"I see. And you say the first two... what about the others?"

"Manchyarka, whom they have named Manasa, is only listed as a sister to Vhrachuggha, whome they name as Vasuki..."

"Vasuki?"

"Yes sir. You know, if you'd stop interrupting, I could get this report finished and you could get back to your... business."

"Clone, we may be lax on discipline here, but there ARE limits." Brevix's normally blue skin was turning a decided shade of purple.

"Well, anyhow, Takshaka is the one name they got right. And he may have not been seen as so friendly. We aren't finding a lot of information about him, other than he was feared due to his venom."

"Are you finished? I'd hate to interrupt again."

"Uh, yes, sir. Sorry sir."

"Very well. Nautewlus, let the watch officer know about this, and the coordinates. Let's go find these four."

"Yes sir." Nautewlus glanced at Boris and noticed him leering at the skipper.

"So, the clones have a bit of attitude do they?" Brevix jumped at the sound of his lover's voice so close behind him.

Boris, too, it seemed had been a little too focused for he jumped and made as though to leave.

"Not so fast, clone. Might you be the one who was so curious about riding the Skipper?"

Nautewlus made a quick retreat, letting the door slide shut behind her as she fled. Boris seemed to shrink into himself before nodding.

"You seemed awfully brave a little while ago. What? Didn't think we'd call you on it?"

"I.. I... I'm sorry. Yes, I assume that was me. Hiram has a big mouth." The last sentence was mumbled, but not so quietly that Brevix, who was enjoying the exchange, didn't hear.

"Your report better bear fruit, Boris. Because if it doesn't, the vat you came from can take you back. Get out."

Next Chapter

The Communicator, Chapter 11

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Brevix rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glared in the direction of the speaker set flush in the walls in one corner of his quarters. Grumpily, he pulled himself out of bed and moved toward the door.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEE...

In the Media Center, he heard his Communication Officer, Powrlen, slap the communication controls, and a moment later the gruff, low rumble of the Drragh Overlord. Pausing, he scratched himself, then turned back, and grabbed his uniform trousers. Quickly pulling them on, he grabbed a light, translucent tunic from beside his bed where he'd discarded it earlier.

Turning again toward the door, he was not surprised when it opened and Powrlen stuck his head in.

"The Overlord, sir... he seems agitated. Ah, good, for once you are dressed. Somewhat."

"Yes. So it would seem. On my way. Any idea why the agitation?"

"None."

A moment later, Brevix was standing before the vispad.

"Overlord Chk..."

"Tak Tak Tak. YA znayu, khto ya. Vam ne potribno nahaduvaty meni. YA khochu ... ty odyahnenyy. Deshcho. YA bachu, shcho moya skarha na Vash Syndykator okupylasya. Dobre. Zaraz Shcho vy povynni povidomyty?"

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF... Powrlen, what vile vat of Vikronian vinegar did you pull that communicator out of? If I have to send for a replacement, it'll come out of YOUR share of the profit."

"Sir..."

"At the rate you are going, Brevix, there will be no profit. For ANY of you. Give me your damn report."

"Sir, perhaps I could help?" Chief Investigator Nautewlus had quietly entered behind him. "I have just finished reviewing the final reports from our latest site survey."

"Go ahead. And the communicator isn't working. If you could try to speak Drragh, to honor our client?"

"It was Ukrainian, sir. I'll translate later. Overlord Drragh...."

"No. Your version of Drragh hurts my ears more than speaking your Keirish hurts my tongue. Speak it."

"Sir. We have just finished surveying another region where there seems to be activity by your crew. We're almost certain we discovered reports of Kukamukan. It was last seen recently, not far from where Kukulkan, its sister, was reported. The locals say it was a fierce dragon, but beneficial to their society. It was last seen..."

"Last seen?"

"Sir, the time frames between your perspective and the people of this planet is... extreme. For you it would have been mere months ago. For the people here, over a thousand years. That's something like forty or fifty of their generations. The last stories indicated it went off to join Kukulkan. We know nothing more, but we believe its disappearance coincides roughly with Kukulkan's own departure from the area. It would seem probable, Overlord, that it is living with her under the sea. Or perhaps in some other area adjacent to the sea."

"I see. No evidence that these Earthers killed, or at least tried to kill, it?"

"None whatsoever, sir."

"In that case, thank you. And you, Communications Officer. Yakshcho vy ne vstanovyly tsey komunikator i pravylʹno pereklaly, ya zmusytymusʹ Kukulkana zhyty i z'yisty vas, yak ya dyvytysʹ!"

The screen flashed out, and the crew were left regarding each other. Finally, Nautewlus cleared her throat. "Powrlen, he said..."

"Don't repeat it. I'm sure it had something to do with my serving as hors d'oeuvres." Powrlen turned glumly back to his communicator and gave it a sharp kick. "I really preferred it when he was fixated on the Commander's lovely bottom parts."

"I heard that, kitty."

"Stop calling me kitty. And I intended for you to hear it."

Nautewlus giggled loudly, "I also enjoyed his admiration for your bottom parts, skipper."

Brevix fixed her with an angry glare, but before he could speak, his First Officer, Hourna jumped in. "Come on, Brev. Everyone's fixation on those delightful bottom parts has made me..." He turned and sauntered back toward their quarters.

Brevix arched an eye and followed him.

Next Chapter

Entry tags:

The Communicator, Chapter 10

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

"I suppose you are all wondering why I ordered a Full Uniform Code for today."

The various members of his crew, both Naturals and Clones alike, nodded in response, the Naturals seemingly bored with the entire process.

"Well, it's because our current crop of Clones have indicated..."

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

The incoming communications klaxon cut off Brevix's next words. His communications officer, Powrlen, looked at him in surprise.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

"This isn't his usual time for contact," Powrlen observed, a note of confusion in his voice, before dashing off for the Media Center.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEE

Brevix, hard on Powrlen's heels, pulled himself to a stop and straightened his uniform as Powrlen slapped the pad connecting the comm to the caster. The little red dot at the center of the vispad grew in size until it flashed and revealed a little man, less than half Brevix's size, dressed in a formal, dark gray suit with green undertones. His deep bronze skin, with shimmers of green provided a stark backdrop to his single bright yellow eye.

"Brevix. Do I need to remind you of corporate policy? When dealing with the, ah... oh. You're dressed. Did you know I was calling?"

"No, Syndicator Strogonar. I was just..." Brevix tried to marshal his thoughts, but the Syndicator continued on.

"Well, never mind what you were just. I was calling because I've had complaints from my client, Overlord Chklarna. He..." Syndicator Strogonar trailed off. "I'm not one to be caught at a loss for words Commander. But the evidence before me indicates you run a taut ship, you are clothed, which I admit is unlike you and your people. But Chklarna says you're always naked. You know the policy?"

"Of course, sir, bu..."

"Of course you do. I expect my policies followed."

"And..."

"Good, good. That's all. I have a party to go to."

The vispad went dark, leaving Brevix, head tilted, biting his lower lip as he watched the signal end.

"Someone complained about your lovely bottom parts, it seems."

"Yes. And how fortuitous that the boss would call just as I was holding a Full Uniform Code All Hands. Speaking of which, let's get back to it."

Next Chapter

The Communicator, Chapter 9

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Brevix was deeply engrossed in the latest report from his Chief Engineer on the stresses that remaining veiled was having on the ship.

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Pushing the report aside, he looked up and motioned the door open with a wave of his palm over a panel on his desk.

Chief Investigator Nautewlus entered followed by one of the human clones.

"Skipper, this is 08CI31549. We refer to him as Hiram."

"Hiram." It was a statement, more than a question. "These earthers have the strangest names. What can I do for you two?"

"Sir," Hiram spoke without further introduction. "We found reference to another of the Drragh. Or at least we think we have. The earthers have given it a strange name, and of course, the incorrect gender. We believe maybe we've found Kukahmukan. Apparently it took up residence near its sister, Kukulkan."

"What do the locals call it? I'm kind of curious."

"Q'uq'umatz."

Brevix shook his head. "I guess it's a fair approximation. And where do we find Kukahmukan?"

"It was last reported a few months ago in a locale known as Guatamala, near a town called Santa Cruz del Quiché."

"Chief Investigator, let the watch know the coordinates, and get us there."

"Sir." Nautewlus turned as though to go, then caught Hiram's eye. She turned back to Brevix who looked questioningly at her. "Skipper, I'll go take care of this. Hiram wanted to ask you a question, though."

"About?"

"I'm sure he'll tell you sir. He didn't mention what it was to me." With that, she turned again and strode from Brevix' office.

Brevix turned his attention to the human clone. "You have a question, clone?"

Hiram seemed momentarily embarrassed, then squared his shoulders.

"Skipper, Six and I have some questions.  In our research, we've read quite a lot of Earth cultures.  We can't help notice that things seem different among you… your apparent comfort with nudity, for example."

"Our comfort with nudity… I don't understand.  Oh, you mean why we don't wear uniforms on board the Mustafir?"

"Or even clothing, half the time. Yes. And, there seems to be a lack of discipline here, as well."

"Lack of disciplne?  I'm not following you.  Why would there be discipline?"

"The earth's military sir… I do not believe they'd permit subordinates to talk to senior officers the way your crew talk to you."

"Military?  You think we're military?"

At this, Hiram hesitated. "Yes sir?"

Brevix chuckled. "You do have a lot to learn, don't you?  We have prepared you for dealing with the Earthers… but not with your own fellow crew mates."

More hesitation, then "No?"

"I'll have a talk with Chief Investigator Nautewlus, ask her to have the crew begin interacting more fully with you, fill in your lack of knowledge about us. But, let me help with a little of your confusion. We are not, strictly speaking, a military ship."

"Skipper?"

"Let me start from the beginning.  The ship is designated SaRV Mustafir. The Strogonar Andop Research Vessel Mustafir. Strogonar Andop is a paramilitary corporation owned almost entirely by Uebhir Strogonar, one of the wealthiest businessman in the Syndication.

"Someone said it was a search and rescue vessel"

"Yes.  Oh, I see, no we happen to be a search, rescue and research craft, but the designator is based on our owner."

"And your owner is Drragh?"

"Oh, hardly.  The Drragh Overlord hired Strogonar Andop to seek out and find their lost crew."

"I see.  I think.  But, sir, the nudity…"

"That, I'm afraid, you will have to get used to, if you are going to stay with us.  The Syndication is huge, comprising multiple species. Some of the species tend to eschew clothing.  We HAVE clothing, it is useful.  Normally, we prefer vests only."

"Oh.  I think that's not a problem for some of us, skipper."  

"But for others?"

The color in Hirams cheeks began to darken. "Well, one of the other clones… he... he... he wonders what you'd be like in bed."

"In bed," Brevix chuckled, "Ha!  Hourna might not approve of that." He chewed on his lip for a moment.

"You see, Hiram, Strogonar selects it's crews based on cultural complimentarity.  Certain cultures in the Syndication are more modest than others.  Others are less so.  The R'Kaccy, the Keiran and the Quonolachi come from societies with cultural and religious norms that embrace their bodies and their sexuality.   We tend not to have too many concerns in those regards.  Though, even among us, we are careful not to offend others."

"Even humans?"

"Are we offending the humans?  To my knowledge they... oh, you mean you and the other clones.  Are we offending you?"

"Some are a little uncomfortable."

"I see. Hiram, we have a saying in the Syndication. 'When in Yuburegor'. It means what we do in our own space is our business, but we need to be more cognizant of peoples' attitudes when we're on their turf. You, my friend, are in Yuburegor. But, I will talk to CI Nautewlus about broadening your cultural educations, so that, at least, you are all aware of our cultures. Perhaps you could arrange an instruction to us on human culture."

"Sir?  If you think that'd help, we're willing to go along."

"Good.  Now, if that is all?"

Next Chapter

Entry tags:

The Communicator, Chapter 8

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Brevix had been out pacing the halls. Lack of success in locating the Drragh was weighing on him. He did not look forward to the next report to Chklarna. The Overlord had not called in several of Brevix's sleep cycles and the lack of contact concerned him. As the screech of the communications gear alerted him, and the rest of the crew he imagined, to another call, he turned in the direction of the Media Center. As Powrlen dashed past him, he pulled the front of his vest tighter, and thought for a moment about stopping in his quarters to get his uniform, then shrugged and continued on to the center.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! Scr…

As Brevix came to a stop in the appropriate location he glanced over his shoulder at the R'Kaccy Communications Officer who looked at him, shook his head then slapped the receiver. Returning his attention to the vispad, Brevix once again straightened his vest as the red dot appeared then exploded to reveal the beak and left eye of his Overlord.

"Choorllargh!" Chklarna stopped mid exclamation and stared at Brevix for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Grrmnnnnn" he growled. "Nplua. Muab koj daim ntawv qhia rau kuv." He glanced at Powrlen, a scowl evident across his face. He shook his head, and mumbled. The translator picked it up. "Tsis txhob rov ntiav kuv ntiav no."

Chief Investigator Nautewlus had entered the media center as the stream of words in an unknown language had emitted from the vispad. Brevix looked over his shoulder at her expectantly. She seemed momentarily taken aback at the sight of him, then referred to her tablet.

"He says 'Fine. Give me your report.' Then he followed with 'Never again am I hiring this firm.' It's in another minor language sir... Hmong."

"I see. Chief Investigator would you do the honors? Bring Overlord Chklarna up to date on our investigation.

"Certainly. Overlord, soon after our last report to you, one of our investigators discovered a reference to one of your officers."

"Which one?" asked Overlord Chklarna in Keira.

"Kukulkan, Overlord. It seems that around two thousand years ago... uh, that's local years, sir, two thousand years ago, a local culture known as the Mayans began to worship a deity by the name of Kukulkan. In this case, sir, there didn't seem to be any animosity towards Kukulkan. There is no reference that we can find to him being killed, I mean her, sir. The locals thought Kukulkan was male. She became a central figure not only in the Mayan culture but among those around the region, and in subsequent cultures."

"You are confusing me Chief Investigator. Subsequent cultures? There is more than one?"

"I'm sorry Overlord. Some earth cultures appear to be relatively old. But they are all in a state of rapid flux. Rapid, at least by your standards. Even by the Syndication's standards. In any event, Kukulkan seems to have been responsible for the rise of a Mayan city called Chichen Itza. Recent references to her have her still in the area a couple of hundred years ago."

"This is hurting my brain. Put 'couple of hundred years ago' in terms I can understand. I saw that Powrlen, you're food, remember that!"

Powrlen looked genuinely stunned, as Nautewlus continued.

"That would be within the past month, sir. The stories indicated that she became concerned that the locals might come to see her as some kind of threat, so she left the area. They say she dove into the ocean and now lives under water."

"Under water, Chief Investigator? Drragh cannot live under water."

"We are aware of this sir. But these stories are all thought by most to be folk stories. Stories that are probably not true, though maybe based in some ancient true event. These are clues for us, sir. And it would seem that this means at least Kukulkan is still alive."

"This is very good news. Brevix do you have anything to add?"

"Sir only that upon arrival on planet, as well as at each locale that we have investigated, we scanned for the presence of vakorianite. At planet fall, we found none, at least none in the area where we initially settled. At the first locale we investigated, there was insufficient data to determine if it were present or not. At this city, Chichen Itza, which by the way is nothing more than ruins now, with some interesting statues I might add. Statues that slightly resemble your people. Anyhow, at Chichen Itza there are traces of vakorianite. So, we now know that this story has some root in truth. A Drragh has been here."

"Kuv pom. Muab cov xwm txheej no tsis ntev los no, kuv zoo siab. Kuv yuav muaj cov rog tsov rog sawv ntsug. Rau lub sijhawm. Commander Brevix, txhua zaus kuv pom koj koj hnav khaub ncaws tsawg. Thiab tam sim no kuv pom, tis ntawm kuv tsis xav, tias koj adorn koj tus kheej ... cia muaj. Kuv pom tias kuv yeej yuav tsum nug koj tus tswv ntiav txog koj li ... tsis txaus ntseeg. Hnub zoo." The screen went blank. Brevix hung his head.

"Powrlen, please tell me that you are doing this intentionally? What'd he say, Nautewlus."

"He... he..." Nautewlus spluttered uncontrollably. "He said... sir, I don't know if I can read this without cracking up."

"Try." Brevix said resignedly. "Just try."

"He said 'I see. Given these recent events, I am feeling much better. I will have the battle fleets stand down. For the time.' I'm not sure what that means, sir."

"Go on."

She giggled again, then guffawed loudly. "Commander Brevix, every time I check in, I see you are wearing less clothing. And now I see, in spite of my not wanting to,'" Again she stopped and seemed to wipe at her eyes as she struggled to maintain some semblance of composure. "That you adorn yourself.... down there. I see I really must report your indiscretion to your employer. Good day."

At this Brevix finally turned and faced his crew, crossing his arms as he did so. Powrlen took one glance and fell to his knees in laughter. Nautewlus, normally quite composed in all situations, colored brightly and covered her eyes, as she began laughing uncontrollably.

Leaning against the door jam, his partner Hourna stood up, a look of surprise on his face. "You liked it! I really didn't think you would. It looks... really good on you sir." He turned and walked off towards their quarters, casting a wicked grin over his shoulder.

Powrlen, who had nearly composed himself laughed loudly again. "Yes sir! That look DOES look good on you! Makes me..."

"Keep your paws to yourself, kitty. Keep your paws to yourself." Brevix followed his partner out.

Next Chapter

Entry tags:

The Communicator, Chapter 7

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Brevix heard the door signal but continued his shower, seeking relief from his body and head aches that the stress of their search caused in the hot steam and water that caressed his back and neck.

Chirrup! Chirrup!

"I hear ya," he thought, choosing to ignore the persistent and annoying bell. The hot water seemed to seep into his aching joints and gave relief of a sort to his stress. When no more signals interrupted his reverie he relaxed into the loving embrace of the water. The heat reminded him of the hot springs of his youth that were prevalent throught Keir. At long last his duty to their mission got the better of him, and in frustrated resignation he waved off the stream of water. He reached out from the shower in search of his towel, and was slightly surprised to find it thrust at him. He smiled. "Thank you Hourna." Finding it only slightly strange that Hourna did not respond, he vigorously dried off, then stepped out from the shower and threw the towel into the corner, then turned to face his lover.

Instead, standing brazenly in his private quarters was Chief Investigator Nautewlus and one of the clones.

"Charlie, right?"

Nautewlus shook her head her lilac fur catching the glint of the mirror lighting. "No, skipper, this one is 03CI31549. The third clone. We're calling him Jeffy."

Brevix eyed Jeffy appraisingly, and was mildly surprised when Jeffy regarded him equally appraisingly in return.

"And what brings you two into my chambers? I don't recall summoning you."

"You didn't. But I felt the news we have shouldn't wait. We've another lead." She turned towards Jeffy and nodded. "Jeffy, tell the Skipper what you told me."

Brevix turned expectantly to Jeffy who seemed to only reluctantly raise his gaze to Brevix' face.

"Sir, there is a remnant of an ancient culture... ancient by the Earther's perspective, anyhow. They're called Yucatec Maya. They are found in the central parts of the continents Earthers call America."

"Yes, yes... let's get to the point."

"There's a story among these people sir. And they mention one of the Drragh crew by name. Kukulkan."

"You've found Kukulkan?" Brevix felt his elation at the unexpected news.

"Not really sir. We've found mention of her sir. The Yucatec think she's a he, of course, but they talk about her as fairly recent. It seemed that for a long portion of the these people's existence, Kukulkan was considered a deity, and may have actually actively protected the people. They credit her with supporting their economy."

"Get me the coordinates. We go in search of her immediately. Finally, we will have something positive to relay to the Overlord!"

Jeffy poked at his tablet, and Brevix heard a responding blip from his own tablet. Reaching for the wall communicator, he poked it enthusiastically.

"Sir?" responded a voice through the speaker mounted in the panel.

"You have new coordinates. Get us there. In stealth."

"Sir!" The communicator panel elicited a low blip signalling the termination of the connection. Brevix turned back to Nautewlus and Jeffy.

"Is there anything else?"

Nautewlus shook her head at his question, but didn't move.

"And you're still here because...?"

"You haven't dismissed us sir." Brevix rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Then get out! But, Investigators,” he paused until he knew he had their attention, “good work."

Nautewlus turned to go, but Jeffy hesitated a moment as he took another long look at his master then followed the Chief Investigator from the room.

Brevix heard a snort from behind him. Bracing himself, he turned to find Hourna leaning against the door into their private quarters, his arms crossed. Hourna smirked at him, shook his head then retreated into the room behind him.

Next Chapter

Entry tags:

The Communicator, Chapter 6

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Brevix had been waiting for this. Overlord Chklarna had skipped several nights. Enough so that Brevix was losing sleep in anticipation and worry. The sounds of Powrlen's claws scrabbling on the metal deckplate in the corridor focused Brevix attention and he stood, reached for his tunic and made his way out the door.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEE…

He finished the last clasp as he entered the Media Center and took his place in front of the vispad. Behind him, his communication officer, Powrlen, poked the caster shutting off the alert. On the vispad in front of Brevix, a red dot quickly grew to a bright flash, then revealed the Drragh Overlord.

"Choorllargh! Mark.... O, jy is hier!." Overlord Chklarna raised his head to look past Brevix's shoulder as Brevix turned to face Powrlen. Both growled menacingly.

"Powrlen..."

"Kommunikasiebeampte, jou onbevoegdheid probeer die siel van selfs die sterkste van die magtige ... ek! Ek het 'n halwe gedagte om deur hierdie raaisel te gaan en jou waardelose skuilplek te verskeur. Jy is gelukkig wat nie kan gebeur nie. Nog."

As if summoned, Chief Investigator dashed into the Center, her tablet at the ready. She poked at the screen and declared "It's a language called Afrikaans. It's spoken by less than fifteen million people in the southern extreme of one of the southern continents."

"Yes, yes, Nautewlus. All very good, but what did he say?" growled Brevix.

Nautewlus nodded, then shrugged apologetically towards Powrlen. "Communications Officer, your incompetence tries the soul of even the strongest of the mighty... me! I have half a mind to step through this caster and shred your worthless hide. You are fortunate that cannot occur. Yet."

"Once again, I have to speak your putrid tongue. It is because of this I have neglected you these past hours. I have had to soak my tongue! So. You do the talking, and I shall endeavor to not sprain my ears. Report."

"Overlord, some days ago, one of our clones identified a potential spotting of one of your crew. It would seem that Ghranklonhg was seen some years ago, along with Chganglungh. The locals in the area believe it to have been the cause for some crop failures and other environmental disruptions. The stories claimed that they were either killed by the local deities or were exiled."

Brevix winced as the Overlord barred its teeth and an eerie sheen appeared in the Drragh's eye. He'd seen this before with the Drragh, normally just before they joined the hunt. But who did the Drragh intend to hunt? Brevix wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Killed? Exiled? How? I cannot see how these Earthers are capable of killing a Drragh! Exiled where? Go there!"

"Sir, we have spent days in the vicinity where your compatriots were reported. And it is a very big area. But we can detect no sign of Drragh. It would seem, then, unlikely that Ghranklonhg and Chganglungh were killed. We are pursuing the possibility that they were exiled. The only clue we've gathered so far as to their whereabouts is that the two of them became associated with water. It's not much to go on, though. We continue to search for clues."

"I do not desire clues, Markhta Brevix. I desire Drragh. Preferably, Drragh dining on R'Kaccy Communications Officers! Even if he would be little more than a small appetizer."

"My lord, we..."

"Find..." there was a blast of static before he continued "hulle! En jou vordering, Orde, word nie waardeer nie. Kan nie broek aantrek nie?!?" The vispad flashed and went black.

Brevix turned and faced Powreln and Nautewlus. He noticed Hourla had joined them. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the wall. Looking at Nautewlus he demanded "Well?"

Nautewlus started to speak, but was interrupted by Powrlen.

"Uh, skipper, you do realize that when you cross your arms, your tunic hitches up, don't you?"

Brevix glowered at him menacingly and muttered "Kitty..." under his breath, but loudly enough for the gathered crew to hear him. Then he turned to Nautewlus again and twitched his ear.

"Uh, sir, he... he turned down your advances..." Powrlen and Hourla spluttered aloud, and Powrlen grabbed his belly as he laughed. "And enquired as to the location of your trousers."

"Aw, Brev, I like you without troursers!" Brevix glared at his mate, then turned to Powrlen.

"If you can not fix the worthless communications gear, at least you could focus the damn thing properly!"

He stormed out off in the direction of his quarters.

Chapter 7

Entry tags:

The Communicator, Chapter 5

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chirrup! Chirrup!

Brevix looked up from his desk with an annoyed expression. This day had started poorly, and seemed intent on interrupting every task he set himself to.

Chirrup! Chirrup!

"Yeah, I heard you the first time! Come in."

The door swung open to reveal Chief Investigator Nautewlus and what appeared to be one of the local sapients, a human. But its uniform identified him as one of his crew. CI Nautewlus approached his desk and waived the human to follow.

"Skipper, this is 04CI31549. He's the fourth Investiagor clone that hatched. We're calling him Charlie."

"Charlie?" Brevix looked confused at the strange sounding name.

"Yes sir, Charlie. It's a common name among the culture we are working in. It helps him to fit in. Except, he doesn't go out in that uniform. The locals would find it strange."

"Uh huh. And you want to see me because?"

"Well, yes sir. Charlie found some information on his last foray outside the ship. He was down at the local library. And, well, I'll let him tell you."

"Please." Brevix ran a hand down the back of his head, tryint to ease the headache that was trying to ruin the remainder of the day.

"Skipper Brevix. Yesterday I departed the 'Mustafir" shortly after the sun rose. My mission was to access the computer system at the local library to search for the names of the missing Drragh." He paused long enough that Brevix grew restless.

"And?"

"Sir, one of the names I searched for was Ghranklonhg."

"Impressive!"

"Sir? Impressive to look for this name?" The clone was clearly confused.

"Impressive that you pronounced it correctly! I know the pronunuciation, and I can't pronounce it!"

"Oh. Yes sir. Well, anyhow, I did a search for this name, and of course I didn't find anything with that name. I did, however, find a story from three thousand years ago from the culture called 'Chinese'. They speak of a dragon named Gonggong."

"A reasonable similarity, I assume."

"Indeed sir. Actually sir, there are several stories of Gonggong. The Chinese believed this dragon to be male, sir, whereas Ghranklonhg was... or is... neither male nor female. In these..."

"You say is. Does this mean Ghranklonhg might still be alive?"

"Well, sir, in these stories Ghranklonhg sometimes is killed, and sometimes is sent off into exile by the gods."

"The... gods."

"Supreme beings, sir, divine."

"Ah, ok... go on. Why killed, why exiled?"

"Apparently Gonggong or Ghranklonhg, whichever, was rather destructive sir. They faulted him for changes in their climate."

"So, why do you think this Gonggong is Ghranklonhg?"

"Well, depictions of him do slightly resemble the images of the Drragh that CI Nautewlus showed us in our preliminary briefings, and be..."

"They have photographs?"

"Uh, no sir. They have paintings and drawings."

"Art." Brevix looked disdainfully at Nautewlus and Charlie.

"Art, sir... but there's another reason."

Brevix ran his hand down the back of his head again. His headache was worsening. "Go on."

"Skipper Brevix, Gonggong was frequently in the company of a second dragon. This other dragon appeared to have a subordinate named Xiangliu."

Brevix stared blankly at Charlie.

"One of the members of the lost Drragh crew was named Chganglungh."

Brevix's head threatened to explode and he buried his face in his hands and scrubbed. "I'm sorry. I don't..."

Charlie looked from Brevix to his immediate superior who nodded at him.

"Sir, there is a resemblance in the sound of the name, if you disregard the spelling differences. On Earth sir, there's a system called Soundex. It encodes words in a way to assist us in finding similarities. It is proving usefull in our search."

"And Chganglungh sounds like..."

"Xiangliu."

"I see. Okay, I do see the significance of this. But, can you find them?"

"Unclear sir. The stories say they were killed or exiled. But they do not say where they might be exiled to. We do know about where the two were last reported... or at least according to the story I read last."

"Then we shall go there. Get me the coordinates."

Charlie poked his tablet and immediately a chirp emitted from Brevix communicator.

"Now, please get out. My head is killing me."

The door swung shut as the two hastily retreated. Brevix stood and rubbed his head. Where, he wondered, was Hourna?

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Entry tags:

The Communicator, Chapter 4

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screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU!

Brevix groaned as the shriek of the communicator invaded his sleep. Emitting a low, gutteral growl, he pried his unwilling body from between the sheets and extricated himself from the possessive grasp of his First Officer and partner, Hourna. Pulling on his tunic, he regarded his uniform trousers hanging neatly over the valet, then shrugged and turned to the door. In the corridor, he heard the scrabbling sound of claws on the metallic deck plating as his Communications Officer, Powrlen, dashed for the Comm Center. Brevix sighed.

screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEEEEUUUUU! screeeeeeEEE…

Brevix paused, then decided to await Powrlen's summons.

"Choorllargh! Markhta Brevix!"

As usual, Brevix imagined that Overlord Chklarna's overly loud growl was audible through the entire ship.

"A moment, Overlord. I'll fetch him."

Brevix waited as the sound of steps on the plating neared his quarters, then, judging the time right, he flung open the door. The dark red light on his blue skin seemed to cast a violet hue, with shimmers of a rather unappetizing shade of green. He chuckled quietly at the surprise registering on Powrlen's face. The dark band of fur around Powrlen's eye magnified the widenend eyes. His bushy striped tail quickly wrapped around his torso in a reflexive effort at protection. As quickly as he did so, he relaxed and shook his head in irritation.

"Overlord Chklarna, sir."

"Very well. Lead on."

Brevix trudged after his communications officer, not for the first time admiring the fluffy tail that flicked jauntily as the R'Kaccy walked. Entering the Comm Center, Brevix took his place in front of the caster, a little closer than before. Before Powrlen could slap the receiver switch, Brevix growled menacingly "Powrlen, you better have this thing working.

"Sir, what can I say? It would seem to have a mind of its own. I tried to get ahold of Under-Overlord Phkrena, but he was unavailable. The best I could do was an under-secretary to some Assistant Under-Overlord... I don't recall her name. It worked fine for us. We tried installing some new translation routines."

"Connect us. But I'm warning you."

"UMlawuli we-Brevix, ndiyathemba ukuba unokuthile okuxabisekileyo?"

Brevix felt his jaw fall open, as he heard the approach of one of his associates behind him. He turned.

"Uh, sir, according to my tablet, that language is Xhosa... it's a rather obscure language spoken by a subset of the indigenous sapient species on this planet." His Chief Investigator, Nautewlus provided him with the translation. "The Overlord says, and I quote 'Commander Brevix, I trust you have something of value?'"

"Lovely. Drragh is spoken by billions of dragons, Keira by tens of billions of Keiran, and the communicator chooses some obscure language of a people we've not even encountered yet? I swear Powrlen..."

"So!" snarled the Overlord on the vid behind Brevix. "Once again I must run my tongue through the meat grinder of your ridiculous language! Communications Officer, be thankful I am not in that place with you. I'd eat you NOW! Commander Brevix, the incompetence of your communications officer aside, does anyone on your crew have the brains to find my PEOPLE?"

"Sir, Chief Investigator Nautewlus has been hard at work." He turned to her and beckoned her forward. Taking her place at his side, she addressed the fierce Drragh.

"Overlord, our cloned investigators have spend several local days combing the planet for information..."

"And, just how do they do this?"

"We've taken the assumption, sir, that since the arrival of your people would have occurred several thousand local years ago, that the best place to look would be any kind of local information repository. A library, if you will, sir."

"Carry on."

"Sir, there is nothing we can find of any event that would describe the arrival or your crew, such as the landing or crashing of a Drragh ship. However, arround the time we are looking at, four thousand years ago, we start to find references to a species that we can find no evidence of. Many different cultures here... let me explain. There is only one species of sapient creatures on this planet. However, due to the geographical barriers created by land and water, there are numerous widely different cultures.... Anyhow, many different cultures start telling stories of something they call 'dragons'. We find the similarity between the word 'Drragh' and the word 'dragon' to be telling sir."

"I see. And you are telling me that there are no longer any Drragh, er, dragons on this planet Earth?"

"There are no recent stories of them, no. Sir, it seems the locals believed these dragons to spout fire, to destroy entire villages by flame or by stomping on them. It would seem that the locals set out to hunt the dragons down." She cringed as the Drragh appeared to expand hugely on the screen before them.

"You imply these local sapients, these Earthers, are capable of killing my Drragh?"

"Only, sir that they appear to have tried."

"I want more evidence of this. Keep digging. LITERALLY if you have to! If they are dead, I want their bodies. And if they are killed, I want the bodies of these sapients."

Reverting to Drragh, Chkarna turned to Brevix.

"UMlawuli we-Brevix, ndicinga ukuba ukhululekile nakwakho ... iindawo zakho ezingezantsi ... ziveze? Okanye udlala ngothando?" Without awaiting a response, the Drragh terminated the connection, and screen flashed to black.

Brevix turned to Nautewlus "Huh?"

His Chief Investigator had turned a murky shade of crimson, and was struggling to contain her laughter. She struggled to respond, then turned the tablet to show him the translation.

"Commander Brevix, am I to assume that you are more comfortable with your... your bottom parts... exposed? Or are you flirting with me?"

"Flirting with him? Oh by the Lords of Keir!"

Powrlen spluttered, then laughed out loud. Brevix stormed off towards his quarters. Nautewlus watched him go.

"His bottom parts are rather..." She blushed, and slipped away, leaving Powrlen rolling on the floor in laughter.

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