[Recap of Conclusion to Chapter Four]
The Sun Diver blasts off, leaving the darkened and still-mysterious prison behind. The ship's special shielding holds up well over the next several days, but the gradual deterioration of its ablative hull due to the tremendous heat and pressure mean another such journey won't be possible until the Sun Diver receives repairs at the Deep Culture Institute. Still, another dangerous voyage into Mataras has been successful. Having overcome burning undead of untold eons past, cursed artifacts, and even soul-draining entities from the depths of space, the crew of the Sun Diver have earned a well-deserved rest!
Yet, deep in the heart of Mataras, events have been set in motion. Out of the churning cauldron arises a threat to the entire Burning Archipelago! For, perhaps, the sun is not as uninhabitable as everyone thinks . . .
Aboard the Sun Diver, a unique prototype vessel capable of short voyages within the heart of a star, the past few days have been--comparatively--calm. With the cursed prison and omnipresent darkness of Ezorod left behind, a semblance of normality (if such a thing exists while travelling through churning solar plasma) has returned to the members of the Near Space expedition team. There is gear to be repaired, holovids to watch, and Hop's endless cornucopia of rustic tales to enjoy. Even though it weakens slightly everyday, the Sun Diver's experimental ablative shielding seems to be holding up relatively well.
Yet, just a couple of days away from the Burning Archipelago, the crew's mood inexplicably dampens. Relief is replaced with fear, and anticipation with feelings of desperation. Only Hop seems to be his normal self, and he reports that the ship's sensors detect nothing unusual. Nothing unusual, that is, until a bioscan reveals Xylian is suffering a seizure in his cabin!
As soon as Zharis is informed of the bioscan, she comms Tulgram.
Xylian is having some kind of seizure. Please drop whatever you are doing and assist.
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Lead physicist Xylian Xuuvats spends much of the return trip documenting and cataloging their discoveries within the dark city-prison of Ezorod. Unfortunately, they did not discover as many answers as Xylian would have liked. While he accepts that they are merely the tip of the scientific spear - for the moment - he is less than pleased with their discoveries thus far. Ilvatri, ostensibly a source of information on the structure within the sun, had essentially commited suicide before giving them any useful information. The damai always concluded his research before moving on while at university. Only scraping the surface of the scientific discoveries to be had within the sun did not sit right with him, but he was getting used to it. A little. Regardless, soon enough it would be time to set off on a proper expedition to meticulously measure and scan every millimeter of the various sun-cities.
Odd feelings come over Xylian as they journey out of the star. Anxiety? Fear? No, Xylian does not have use for such emotions in his important scientist brain. He ignores the feelings, and yet the continue to grow, threatening to overwhelm the level-headed scientist. And eventually they do. Suddenly thoughts come to him, information. Much like his kinds' ability to psychicly share information with others. It feels familiar, but also different. And desperate. He tries to communicate back to the psychic entity, but it's no use, almost as if his mind refuses to cooperate with him.
Eventually, the worst of the feelings of dread and hoplessness abate, and Xylian finds himself laying in a damp pool of sweat on the deck of his quarters. He opens his eyes to find himself surrounded by the others, and he sits up, trembling. Luckily, he maintains most of his composure. "I believe I have been contacted by another entity within the sun." He says blandly. "It called itself 'Falafel', I think. Did any of you hear it as well?" Since the contact seemed to be empathetic, it is unlikely his exocortex was able to save any of the information. "It spoke of another sun city, Kahlannel, and an attack by ifreet. They request aid, warning of further attacks on the solar system if the efreet are not stopped." He closes his eyes and rubs his face with his hands, then looks to his companions. Had they heard the same plea he had?
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Falafel, are you sure? Isn't that an ethnic human foodstuff? I didn't hear anything, but I only have a very small psychic ability to send short messages.
Zharis adjusted the context for her role: the dark world had been a pithy, homemade horror show, but things were looking up... they were moving into more of a tragi-comedy. Serious world-saving, but with amusement on the side. One of her best genres.
... In any case, we can't ignore a plea for help. We should go and find this Falafel. Hop, do you know where Kahlannel is?
...Of course, we need to drop off our passenger and get more siccatite before we can go anywhere new, so I hope poor Falafel will last that long. Are you able to communicate back to it?
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The grey-skinned dwarf, in other words the duergar, is not distracted by this chatter. Running through the corridors of the ship to Xylian was not so easy for this heavy man, but he rushed over as soon as he received Zharis's message. The neurochemical processes in his brain, produced by an implanted (or rather simply grown there) mushroom biocomputer, processed information at a speed inaccessible to other living beings. Checking with the extensive handbook of physiology of damai, Tulgram checks the health indicators.
The pulse is normal. Blood pressure is normal. Watch my thumb. Reactions are normal. You're going to get an injection now, let's see what's in your blood.
After completing the examination, he helps Xylian to sit down and does so with ease. Under the slightly swollen body of the duergar, there are broad shoulders, a powerful back, strong arms and "explosive" legs of the former collegiate wrestler.
Buddy. Have you ever had hallucinations before? Have any mental disorders like schizophrenia been diagnosed among relatives before?
He looks slightly mocking, but... You already know this guy well enough to understand that when he speaks without his accent and all sorts of small curses, he is professional and extremely serious.
The ship's AI, Hopalong, responds to Zharis' question: "Sorry pard! Accordin' to the nav-comp, ain't no one ever heard no tell of a Kahlannel!"
Zharis puts on a concerned face and has the camera come in for a close-up.
That's concerning. A call for help from an unmapped planet.
It would be a good clip for later if they ever found out what was going on.
Letting the camera go back into overview mode, she added
Well, Xylian, unless you can contact that ... uh, Falafel... again, there is little we can do. ...Maybe someone at the DCI will know?
Just seconds into the conversation, the inexplicable feelings of fear and desperation vanish, as if someone flipped a switch to turn them off! And with no way to make further contact or gather information about the mysterious phenomenon and message, there's little for the crew of the Sun Diver to do but sit on their hands and wait.
The remaining days pass slowly, but pass they do. After navigating through a final turbulent solar storm, the ship emerges from the coronasphere and into orbit around Mataras. Ahead are the network of "bubble-cities" that form the Burning Archipelago: an ancient and mysterious collection of force-field protected platforms discovered only a century ago. "Whew, ain't she a beaut! Feels like we've been gone a mite past eternity!" observes Hop.
Once the ship passes through Sunrise Station (the Sarenite-operated gateway to the Burning Archipelago), Hop sets the Sun Diver down gracefully at a designated landing pad. When the landing ramp is lowered, two members of the Deep Culture Institute are waiting, one looking eager, the other looking anxious.
"Tell us everything!" shouts the ysoki Nib, in between hugs and fist-pumps.
"Did any of you receive a telepathic message like my fellow lashuntas and I did?" Taeress asks. "If so, pay it no mind. There's no way we're sending you into a war zone!"
Zharis hugs Nib, and then responds to Taeress.
I didn't get the message, but from what Xylian said, this Falafel really needs our help. I am glad to know that other people heard it as well... but guessing that the Sun Diver is the only ship that can actually do anything about it. We should at least consider it.
And Nib, we'll tell you everything, but let's do it over dinner, okay? We have really good food synthesizers on that ship, but it still isn't the same as hand-cooked.
Also, we're almost bone dry on Siccatite. Has the DCI acquired any more?
The pahtra engineer is shorter than both Xylian and Zharis by a decent amount, as well as about half the size of the uplifted bear she's standing next to. She is still taller than the duergar, however, as she stands at about 5 feet tall, give or take a few inches, owing to her tumultuous ejection off of Pulonis, causing her to not grow as tall as she should. "Hello. My name is Amhesha, and I'll be your replacement lead engineer. I served as the apprentice to the engineer of Mother's Tongue for five years, before deciding to become certified to be the lead engineer on a different ship."
She pulls out her custom rig, a yawning protean's maw covered in ever-changing Protean poetry projected on the rim, with a computer screen in the center. She double-checks her messages with her old ship's crew, double-checking to make sure that this is the right ship. She begins speaking, practically vibrating at this point, "You're the ones who found that multidimensionally encoded piece in Aklo, right? I've kept in touch with the crew of Mother's Tongue and they won't stop discussing it. It's a ship of linguists devoted to Ydajisk, so we get sent materials all the time to aid in translation. It's how most of us afford to live, actually." Upon hearing the warzone comment, she adds in her mediocre qualifications in combat as well, "I can also add a bit in on-the-ground combat. I'm no security personnel like Theodore over here," she says as she points to the uplifted bear that is quite literally twice her size, "but I did down a few Pharasmin terrorists trying to take out the last speaker of a divergent dialect on Eox; I can defend myself if necessary."
When she looks up to face the team, however, her jaw drops as she realizes she knows who some of the team is. She starts and stops a few times, but finally manages to sputter out a few words. "Wait, Zharis, of As the Black Hole Turns fame? You're on the mission to the Pact World's sun??"
Allowing his diminutive colleague to speak first, Theo stands behind her, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind his darksight goggles. He looks over the crew, interested, but trying not to look interested. He looks at the taller Pahtra again when Amhesha recognizes her. Interesting. "Well, we all have our hobbies." he rumbles, shrugging in his Defrex hide jacket. "I'm Theodore. I break things so you don't have to." he says, pretending to examine the four inch claws on one hand for a moment. "When do we leave?"
When the newcomers walk up to join Nib and Taeress and start in about how they are part of the crew now, Zharis looks over at Jin and Hani.
Wait, when did this happen? Did you two request this?
Looking back at Amhesha and Theodore, she adds
Were you two sent by the Advanced Institute of Heliodic Studies? Or by my father?
After Jin and Hani explain, and it is clarified that her father isn't interfering, Zharis says
You both look very capable. I don't mean to be rude. Welcome to the team. Yes, I am the same Zharis from As the Black Hole Turns, but perhaps we should table the question of when we are leaving until we have a chance to at least rest and repair the ship. You two could be quite valuable in helping with that... although, hmm, not sure a soldier would be helpful, but an engineer might, and you could uh, move the heavy bits for her, right? First though, could you escort our guest into the DCI?
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Nib looks irked. "I was just about to make introductions and explain everything, but these two stole my thunder!" she says.
Taeress rolls her eyes at her partner in a loving manner, and says "Yes, the Advanced Institute of Heliodic Studies has been quite pleased with the data we've been sending them from the Sun Diver's voyages so far, and knew that the expedition could use a hand since Jin's and Hani's contracted terms hadn't been renewed. Our two newcomers are eager, which is a good thing. As long as it doesn't lead to foolishness," she adds, with a meaningful look at Nib.
Nib nods at Zharis' suggestion for some real food. "Let's head to the White Rat--finest Akitonian cuisine in all of the Archipelago! We can talk over everything with our gobs full! And then we'll come back and sort out that sedated prisoner. I can't wait to hear how you met someone in the middle of the freaking sun!"
Having served their tenure on the expedition with distinction, Hani and Jin say their farewells and make a promise to meet up for a reunion next year back in the far more comfortable setting of Pabaq.
"Forgive me for being a bit over-eager, and I can absolutely assure you I have had no contact with your father. Are you from Pulonis? If you're that concerned, I can give you the contact information of everyone aboard Mother's Tongue, and a few other people, to vouch for me. I'd be glad to help with the ship right away as well."
Hearing about the sedated prisoner in the sun, Amhesha has a wide smile come across her face as she speaks, "Oooh, what do we know about them?" She closes the "maw" of the custom rig, content that she's updated her former crewmates enough. "Oh," she shouts, "food would be lovely! Haven't eaten all day! I've been too eager about this to do so."
Tulgram silently shakes hands with the newcomers. The handshake feels very strong. The duergar's expression is quite businesslike, but you can't call it friendly. He looks at the new team members appraisingly, then says, I disagree, Zharis. So far, in these studies, we need soldiers almost more than engineers. Tha dead will nae tell tha universe aboot any discoveries, an' in tha last outing, literally everything tried ta kill us... Pfft... Let's go eat at last.
Zharis responds to Tulgram,
Oh, I didn't mean we didn't need the bear. Uh, Theo, right? Anyway, I didn't mean we didn't need him at all, only that he would probably not be the person I want fixing the ship. I agree... we *definitely* need him for other things.
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Aye, true. He nods his head and gives Theo another appraising look. Good genetics. Tulgram says it with the air of a professional who sees something that is invisible to others.
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Theo shifts posture, and somehow it makes him look completely different that the imposing brute he was just a moment ago; instead he seems wise, almost sagely. He smiles widely at Zharis. As he does so, you hear his voice again, but it is less the low rumble it was before, and more the refined Common of high society and academia. "I'm afraid you've fallen into my trap, my dear. Never judge a book by its cover, as they say. The University did not send me only for my faculty for rapid disassembly of threats, though I am good at that. I'm currently on sabbatical from my day job at the Diaspora University, where I'm an associate professor of Xenobiology. My area of particular expertise is the genetics of the seasonally variable Triaxian ecosystem, truly fascinating stuff, but I must say the creatures native to the sun are quite something to behold, themselves." he pauses. "But it is true that fixing ships is not something I'm great at."
Zharis smiles up at the bear, matching his (mental) academic accent.
Happy to know that you are much more than you seem, friend. Your expertise may be required for many things, but yes, probably not fixing the ship. :)
Shall we away to our luncheon?
Then she drops out of her academic lilt and starts walking into the DCI.
Come on. I'm exhausted. Let's eat. And then sleep. Tomorrow we can get to know each other better, and plan, and shop, and ... everything else.
Tulgram chuckles. A xenobiologist, heh? We'll see.
Doctor Xylian Xuuvats is shorter and stockier than other damai, with skin a deeper blue and pure white hair - all results of his growing up on the sunkissed university planet Pabaq and not his species' own broken homeworld. His is well armed and armored for a scientist, the hailcannon - Amhesha notices its' 'battery' seems to be a salvaged supply from some kind of medium sized robot of some sort - magnetically attached to a mounting point on his back drawing attention. A medical kit is attached to his left thigh, a few bloodstains of various colors marring the outer case. He also carries a frankly ridiculous number of high-cap batteries, but the scuffs and scrapes on the terminals denote that they all see much use.
He sends a brief primer to the two newcomer's PC's, discussing the destruction of Far Portal, the cultists that have plagued them from the beginning, more than one star-wide psychic disturbance, whisperings of Outer Gods, the fascinating but mostly answerless city of Noma, the fascinating but mostly answerless prison of Ezorod and its useless Ilvatri. All things seemingly related, but with no clear picture what, if anything, they are all pointing to. Hopefully not Outer Gods. He does not tell them of the polyfluid, since he is still unsure what effect it would have on the economy of the solar system and does not want his proog to grow up in a solar system consumed by war.
Doctor Xuuvats does not introduce himself nor greet the others. As usual, he is satisfied with the dossiers the DCI provided on the two newcomers. "There have been heretofore unheard of levels of hostility against our mission. I hope you two are prepared for combat." He says. His voice is monotonous, not varying in tone or cadence, and his expression can best be described as 'expressionless'.
Amhesha snaps her fingers, and you see a weapon grow out from her Glove of Stroing to full size: an Advanced Shobhad Horizon Striker, with painted and scrawled-on words in a large host of languages, with Protean being the most prominent. "I am certainly ready if you are!" She pats the analog weapon and it returns to merge with the palm of the glove, before she responds. "You certainly have a large number of high-caps, do you like to use automatic on your weapon or something? And if I find any batteries, I'll give them to you. Horizon Strikers don't run off of electricity, after all," she gives a sly smirk, as she cares for the analog sniper she received once upon a time.
She turns to Theodore, after which she mumbles out loud, "Triaxus, hm? Guess you have to look at very old records a lot given their seasons? I wish you luck with your research, Professor."
After taking a linecrawler from Dawnshore to Stellacuna, it's only a short walk to the White Rat. Nib is obviously a regular, and the waitstaff arranges for a private dining room. In minutes, the table is full of imported Akitonian foodstuffs, cooked to--in Nib's expert opinion--perfection. After an amusing anecdote about a tourist trying to eat khefak flesh, she pats her swollen belly and gets back to the important topics at hand.
"It's the chance of a lifetime!" she says without prompting. "If the Starfinder Society had a Sun Diver, they'd be salivating at the chance to make first contact with a new culture that somehow lives in the sun! And since you've already been to Noma and Ezorod and came back okay, we know the technology works! So . . . next stop Kahlannal!"
Taeress coughs loudly and puts her fork down with an audible clink. "Not so fast, beloved. You didn't experience the telepathic message like I did, and I don't think you truly understand the situation you're asking them to walk almost blindly into. First," the scholar says, raising a finger for emphasis, "I have a hypothesis. Zharis and Xylian will remember when they first arrived on the Burning Archipelago and got wrapped up in that awful would-be rebellion mess in Asanatown. I surmise the feelings of fear and paranoia that the lashuntas of Asanatown had been feeling leading up to the outbreak of violence may have been a diffuse leak of psychic energy from Kahlannal! And that means this 'attack' we've been warned of could have been going on for months. The war may already be over." She sees Nib eying a cooked yam on her plate and pushes it over to the ysoki. "Second," she continues, "it could be a trap. We don't really know anything about this place or the sender of the message, and could be delivering them truly unique technology tied in a neat bow. And third, the previous incursions into Mataras haven't been safe or without consequences. Those cultists kidnapped you and Otlo before the last journey, and Zharis--no offense, honey--looks like she's been through the wringer!"
She pauses in her oral dissertation when she realises Nib is grinning at her with obvious affection. "What?"
Nib answers. "Asanatown. That's where you, Miss Straight-Lace of all people, assembled a strike-team to break me out of prison."
Taeress blushes. "It was only a police station and you weren't in any real trouble and . . "
A waiter comes to collect some plates as Taeress trails off, having lost her train of thought.
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Err...
Zharis, who had thought her scorched fur had been growing out pretty well, now realized that although it looked better, it probably didn't look that great, and she knew that she still did feel much weaker than before the trip to the dark world. And she was in public looking like this? Wow, she was really losing it.
Point taken. I look like I've been doing some serious method acting, trying to understand the downtrodden and homeless perhaps. (No offense, Amhesha). I don't think I have enough credits to see the kind of doctor that can cure all of this...
She gestures vaguely to herself, the unhealthy pallor, the subpar sheen, the imperfection...
I mean, obviously, I could ask my father, but I'd rather not. I'm trying to make it on my own. Perhaps I could sell my urban cruiser. Although we might want to hold on to that. Hmm. I'll get our finances sorted out tomorrow. We have a lot of junk in our null-space chambers that probably needs to be sold off.
In any case, it isn't just me that needs to recover... the sun diver is badly in need of repairs, and currently we don't have enough siccatite. We desperately need more before we could even dream of going elsewhere. ... That said, though, I am inclined to want to help Falafel and the whole Kahlannal gang. I think those Efreet they are fighting are the nasty ones putting death collars on people. I just don't think we are ready yet.
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Theodore tucks into the food with abandon. I hope this expense is covered and we're not going to get stuck with a bill later. For those unfamiliar, the eating habits of an Uplifted Bear are disconcertingly similar to those of their less intelligent cousins. There isn't a lot of table manners, and utensils go untouched. There *is* a lot of various sauces on his face and hands after a few courses. There's also an impressive number of empty plates and stripped bones. Perhaps also disconcertingly to those not familiar with telepaths, a full mouth does not preclude "talking". "So tell us, what do we know about these threats, and Kahlannal in general?" he asks, while chomping away on a triple cheeseburger with extra bacon.
Responding to Theodore, Zharis says
We don't know anything, except they are fighting Efreet... unless, did you gain anything else from the telepathic message, Taeress? Xylian may not have gotten the whole thing.
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Amhesha noticably starts choking on her food, laughing, the instant she hears "Falafel". She, all the while coughing repeatedly, uses her Mindlink Circlet to communicate telepahically, "FALAFEL?!".
Once the blockage in her throat is cleared up, she resumes talking with her larynx and not with the mindlink circlet: "I doubt that could be the name, but I need to know the source of the name before I take an educated guess as to the proper name. Unless, of course, it's self-titled, in which case, Falafel is certainly possible."
She then turns to Zharis, after eating a good portion of her plate. "No offense...? Guess you know what Pulonis traditionalists do with piebald kits, then," she adds with a bit of a dejected look on her face, before continuing, "My life's stable enough now, thanks to the money I earned back on Mother's Tongue. Anyways, we can reason out that most of these threats, since they live in the literal sun, are likely to be vulnerable to things like Hailcannons and Frost Infusions. Is that correct from what you've faced so far?"
After she gets a response, she finishes her plate, remarking on how good the cuisine is, before turning to her drink and consuming the rest of it. "Mm. Forgot how good Akitonian food is. Now I want a falafel though, heh."
Taeress suppresses a smile. "I believe the telepath's name was 'Faeffell'. I could sense they were female. I'm not sure if Xylian received the bit about the city being protected by an energy shield that would make it impassable without the correct algorithm. Though, if that's true, then how were they invaded in the first place? As you can see, there's just too many unanswered questions. Maybe someday Lurian can adapt the Sun Diver's shielding technology to allow for an unmanned probe to be sent there. In the meantime, we have plenty of data to pour over." She pats Nib on the shoulder consolingly and heads to the front of the restaurant to pay.
Once she's gone, Nib says "Everything she says is true. But you're not really going to pass up this opportunity, are you? I mean, it’s a real deep culture, not a robot city or a bizarre prison. This is the real deal! We could get the Sun Diver back in shape and maybe even upgraded in only a few days. And even better, we might be able to give you some back-up! The Sun Diver doesn't have enough life support to support a large crew, but I came up with the idea of stasis pods to hold me and few other DCI members, and Lurian said it's theoretically possible! So, I could come with you this time!" Seeing Taeress headed back, Nib puts a finger to her lips.
"Hmm." Xylian grumbles. "A real culture. With historic and scientific texts. Imagine that." He says blandly. "It is worth a look, largely because we have no other viable landing destinations within the sun." As Nib says, the Sun Diver is too small to transport a proper research team and equipment to any interesting locations, but since they already have the ship, they may as well continue to use it for the purpose which it is most suited. "If nothing else and it proves too dangerous to land, we can take aerial scans of this Kahlannal before leaving. It is possible, even likely, Faeffell is exaggerating the danger present. Most nations, when under attack, will claim they are threatened with total destruction." Perhaps they should get 'Press' vests.
"Still, we have seen hostile activity from efreet in near space as well, and the proximity makes it unlikely to be a coincidence. It may be profitable to visit Faeffell if only to confirm the existance of a greater threat from the efreet."
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Duergar listens attentively to the conversation, without stopping eating. He doesn't do it as wildly as Theodore, but in very impressive volumes for his size and with gusto. The dishes he orders are about the hidden hedonistic strings of his soul.
Putting aside the empty oyster shell and taking a bite of a ruddy bun with cheese with noble mold (not forgetting to take a sip of rather expensive wine), Tulgram says with his mouth full, We haven't made an outstanding scientific discovery yet, an' tha'ss'a what we're all here for, right? I support Xylian. Real culture be real success for real scientists. He makes a gesture as if he is clinking glasses with you and smiles slyly with his not too pleasant smile.
Zharis responds to Amhesha
Yes, well... I am definitely not in favor of the severe discrimination against felines with less perfect patterns and bloodlines, but I haven't experienced it firsthand. I played an orphan once in As the Black Hole Turns. Do you remember that storyline? The mask was oppressive, but it helped me really get into the role and feel the hardships of those without perfect patterns. I thought it was a step in the right direction when the orphan discovered that she was the littermate of the main character, also of course played by me, and was freed from her life of hardship. It showed that short cats like you are just as valued as, well, cats like me, with perfect patterns and noble bloodlines, and that we can all work together for the good of the galaxy. It was a good script.
To Taeress she says
Oh, Faeffell, not Falafel. Hmm. I think Xylian's name is better, honestly, but I will try to say it correctly should we ever meet her.
...repeat tha wine an' bring a plate o' falafel for everyone...
While eating an entire loaded baked potato, skin and all, Theodore says ”Efreet.” despite the medium, you can tell he’s spitting the word out, as if it tastes sour. ”Outsiders are the worst. Blasted extraplanar nonsense.”
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"Good to know you aren't one of those traditionalists," Amhesha says with derision. "Even if I gained a lifelong passion in xenolinguistics from their asshattery, would not wish the fate on anyone. Ever," she continues. She then turns to Theodore the moment he slights outsiders, with a slight snarl on her face, at least until she remembers he's about twice her size. "Invading forces of outsiders are a pain in the neck; I can agree to that. This will be the first time I'm dealing with any from the Elemental Planes, though. I figured a Frost infusion would work on whatever can live inside the sun, though; so I'm prepared enough."
Hopefully he meant things like Rifti appearing and Efreets invading, Amhesha thinks to herself while munching on falafel, and not just someone born in the Drift giving way to a Prismeni or something.
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An' I personally like tha vesk culture. Strength lies in discipline an' perseverance. Tulgram wipes his mouth and beard with a napkin. After he shaved off his mustache, much less food began to remain on him after the meal, but a little sloppiness still persists. Let's get back to the topic. It is quite possible that upon arrival it will be easier for us to negotiate with the invaders than with the locals. This is not necessarily the case, but we are scientists and not peacemakers. Our task is to research and get out alive with the research results. He says these words in a rather businesslike tone, without an accent. The eyes stare intently at colleagues, especially two new colleagues. I'll repeat it with your permission. We are not rescuers. We are scientists. Let's not forget about it. Any conflict needs to be studied before getting into it. Someone attacked someone, it's bad. But what if the one who was attacked, for example, is a thief and appropriated someone else's property and thus deserved an attack? The universe is quite complicated, and only we, the researchers, bring at least a hint of clarity to this complexity. Let's trust only our eyes and not jump to conclusions.
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”Outsiders just don’t make any sense to me. They’re…made of fire, or rock, or whatever? Half of them don’t even seem to have internal organs? Where is their nervous system? Why are their organs so weird? Nothing about them makes biological sense. I’m not even sure elementals meet the technical definition of “alive”. What really separates an earth elemental from a construct made out of stone? I’m a biologist, but my field of study just…doesn’t apply to outsiders. Or at least, not in any consistent, logical way. It drives me a little bit crazy. On a more practical level, where do you even find vital organs to stab on creature that’s made out of fire?” Theo says, gesticulating all the while with a turkey drumstick. Turning to Tulgram he says I mean, if we’re going to study these people and their city, it’s not going to help if we sit by and watch efreet kill them, is it? But anyway, it’s probably too early to plan anything, given the scant information we have.”
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Tulgram, if these are the Efreet that are enslaving people with exploding collars, I am never, ever going to negotiate with them. So, just be aware of that before you start a conversation with one. I don't want you to accidentally get hit by my pistol as you walk in between us.
"I'm in agreement with Zharis here, no way am I cooperating with these Efreet if they're all like that. And anyways, haven't you already seen a bit of the conflict, with the whole exploding collars thing? We may be scientists, but we're also people, we aren't soulless robots."
She then turns to the bear that's double her size, Amhesha recollects with the few encounters she's had with outsiders. "Oh! Didn't think of it from that angle. Most of the outsiders we encountered on the Mother's Tongue were Proteans and Psychopomps," she says as she utters the last word with the kind of derision and hatred that can only come from experience. "Those all have identifiable internal organs, from what I remember. Granted, Protean's never stay in one place for very long!"
Nib and Taeress are taken aback by the sudden, passionate discussion about outsiders. Taeress says "We're give you all some time to get acquainted and for those of you just back, rest up. Your quarters are still ready in the DCI dormitories."
Nib nods, and adds "And we'll get the techies to start repairing the Sun Diver. For, you know, whenever it needs to be used again." The ysoki clearly has no skimmer card face, and can't suppress a grin and a wink.
The pair depart, leaving you to your own devices.
Theodore, strictly speaking, all outsiders belong to living beings. I'm as far from the mystical as you are, but I can't go against the truth. Tulgram says it in an edifying tone, much like a professor would talk to his student.
Zharis, given your outstanding shooting skills, this risk always exists wherever I stand. He winks at her in response to the threat, smiling mockingly. Then his tone changes again to serious one. However, your emotional reaction reminds us that we all need a good rest. Tense nerves lead us to rash words and decisions.
When Amehsha starts talking, duergar raises his hands, half jokingly giving up, half seriously indicating that the conversation is over. That's it, everyone go to sleep! I'm telling you as an onboard medic. He stands up, wipes his lips with a napkin, throws it on the table with a careless movement and nods goodbye to everyone. Nib, Taeress, write me later in WhatStarApp how much I owe for dinner. Bye.
As the duergar leaves, Amhesha finishes is still eating and asks the remaining party, "Is this normal for him, to get up and leave like this? It's not like I plan to get in the distance they could do anything about my attack, if I can help it."
Zharis chuckles.
Don't mind him. He's kind of the mad scientist/evil genius type. He'll suggest inappropriate things sometimes, but you just keep doing the right thing, and he'll work with it.
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After dinner, the journey back to the Deep Cultures Institute is uneventful. But once there, it's clear the (semi-)scholarly staff of the institute are buzzing with excitement! There's a mysterious prisoner to study, reams of data from the Sun Diver's sensors to analyze, and a thousand and one questions about exactly what happened in the mysterious "Ezorod"! Not to mention, the Institute has started receiving media inquiries as people are actually starting to believe the DCI's press releases about successful voyages into the sun! Fortunately, Nib and Taeress run interference, both internally and externally, so you're able to get to bed. But both are candid--tomorrow could just be a feeding frenzy!
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The next few days, Tulgram does the unexpected - gathers several press conferences, while hiring professional assistants who will help make a high-quality format and style and even prepare a speech for him, and will talk about the achievements of the team in the subsequent expedition. He will not forget to mention each of the squad members with whom he flew deep into the sun, but the main focus in his story will be on his person. This is a subtle shift of emphasis, because he is not lying in any point, but the narrator is automatically perceived by the main character of the story.
At the same time, duergar is announcing a number of very expensive seminars, several books and a unique course on the study of solar life. The pre-sale is due to start in the coming days, and this is something like crowdfunding.
He is clearly planning a comfortable old age.
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When she has gotten some sleep, a shower, and trimmed and combed out her fur to hide the scorched bits, Zharis digs through the group's null space containers in order to find out what they have to sell.
Turns out, quite a bit. They hadn't sold things for some time. She sorts out the things they are going to sell from the things they are going to keep.
As she is searching through she comes across the bag with a few things from the trapped room in the dark world, and she turns them over to the DCI so they can see what they are, telling them to be careful because they were part of a trap.
She also asks if anyone knows what these six pink serums are.
...
Zharis takes a trip into town to get someone to take a look and see if they can restore the weakness that has been plaguing her. Luckily, she finds someone who can fix her up. Only 3,000 credits. What a deal.
She is glad that she sorted through the things to sell, and so she does that, and then returns when she has enough credits to get the treatment.
She looks much, much better when she comes back, and as a nice bonus side effect, her fur is perfect once again. Magic is a wonderful thing.
Zharis notices that Tulgram is telling the story, and thinks it will be a perfect lead up to her movie about the "true account." She makes a copy of all of the footage and sends it to her father for the vault first, and then spends a significant amount of time editing the video from the trip, and sends the draft off to her agent to have it made into a documentary about the trip. She includes a lot of other footage for a separate documentary about her travels, which are of course, not yet complete.
___
When she gets back from the trip, she asks the DCI about Siccatite. Without that, useless to even talk about another trip, really.
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Having already traded in her old Horizon Striker for a more functional model, along with the modifications to both her exocortex, custom rig, and the rifle, she doesn't have much in specific to do other than help make sure that the group gets Siccatite. So, as a result, she refreshes her Ignan, all the while seeing the details of the Sun Diver that she's been assigned to. She also tries to attend any and all talks she can on xenoarcheology and xenolinguistics that anyone is hosting, as she's not merely just a mechanic. That's just the skillset that tends to earn the most money consistently.
On one of the days in specific, though, if anyone is over her shoulder, they can see snippets of a conversation in Ignan on her custom rig. If anyone tries to read, her side of the message is addled in slang, as is to be expected from anyone worshipping the literal deity of slang.
MothersMandibles: So. Let me get this straight, Am. He idolizes Vesk culture? The ones who do all the constant conquering?
PiebaldXenolinguist: yeah, u heard me right. i suppose it could be worse?
MothersMandibles: How?!
PiebaldXenolinguist: swarm or pharasmins, mostly. vesk at least let the languages live.
MothersMandibles: touche
PiebaldXenolinguist: i have a day or so until we actually head in, tho. youll be glad to know im not security.
MothersMandibles: Almost scared to ask who is
PiebaldXenolinguist: xenobio uplifted bear.
MothersMandibles: What, does he pay for grad school with money made as a mercenary??
PiebaldXenolinguist: want me 2 ask him, jysh?
MothersMandibles: Go ahead. We're about to head out, though. Talk to you after one of our missions ends?
PiebaldXenolinguist: fine by me. routine docu or the rare & elusive "beat a pharasmin senseless"
MothersMandibles: Documenting. See you later!
PiebaldXenolinguist: cya
Once this MothersMandible's last message is sent, she closes her rig and goes back to perusing a recent Common-Ignan dictionary while finishing up a recently purchased meal. "Mmm. Forgot how good real food is. Too long on Eox!"
The next few days pass quickly in a blur of activity! Between shopping, getting to know new shipmates, and endless questions from DCI staff, it seems like there's barely a spare moment to rest and relax.
Tulgram knows that it's "first in, best dressed" when it comes to monetising the group's adventures! Already, the duergar can barely walk down the street or hop on a linecrawler without people recognising him and asking for his autograph (sometimes in inappropriate places!). On the Burning Archipelago's infosphere, a meme is circulating in which an individual states their accomplishments followed by a short animation of Tulgram's dour face saying: "Yes, but I voyaged into the heart of the sun."
Having been born into a privileged background and already had a taste of fame on Near Space's As the Black Hole Turns, Zharis knows enduring success if better than being a flash in the pan. Once her agent and editors get to work on authentic footage from the Sun Diver and spy drone, the resulting documentary will give her a taste of immortality as one of Near Space's most successful explorers! But in the meantime, she also does the hard work of sorting through the expedition's assortment of supplies and spare gear to help get organised for future forays. Beran, the DCI's quartermaster, raises an eyebrow when Zharis tells her about the cursed artifacts from the darkness prison known as Ezorod. She sighs and hands over a datapad. "You better fill out these forms."
Having just joined the expedition in the crucial role of Lead Engineer, Amhesha knows she has big boots to fill. Between bouts of slang-heavy gossip online, she crams information on foreign languages, xenoarchaeology, and the heliotropic sciences. Being the runt of the litter (and a newcomer) isn't easy, but Amhesha's ready to stand tall!
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Amhesha's ready to stand tall!