Amongst the N'diri
Inspired by the Idea: http://www.scifiideas.com/inspiration/starting-poi...
Cover art also stolen from the site :P
Alan Delmarr stood at the confluence of the three rivers. He couldn’t pronounce their names, the D’niri language wasn’t one that humans could pronounce well. It was the lack of having two airways ventrally located the throat. Alan just watched as the water ran past the crumbling paving stones of an ancient ruin. Fish-like creatures leapt out of the water, their ventral mouths snapping at the air.
He had been assigned to this world to investigate what had happened to Sub Director Eric Spencer. Spencer was part of the liaison to the D’niri from the Sagittarian Confederation. He went missing a week ago visiting the people of this city, some name that sounded like “argle-bargle”. They were a separate culture from the majority population. Religious differences.
Sub Director Spencer was trying to determine what these people believed in, worshipped. Central had warned that they were vigorous in their beliefs. Well, Alan was vigorous in his beliefs as well. It was his job to find out where or what happened to Spencer, and he believed that he could do it within the next month or so. He did stuff like this all the time back on Slaachn. No sweat.
In the corner of his eye, he noticed something roughly the size of his thumb crawling across his left boot. Alan peered down, curious as to see what the little bug creature thing thought of his brown boots. It stopped moving near the edge of the boot, where the metal toe cap was, and curled itself into a small ball, not too dissimilar to what a terran millipede would do.
He sighed, crouching down, reaching out with his left hand to flick it off his boot. Must be the damn heating coils. If he could summarize the entire planet in a word it would be wet. In two, it would be fucking wet. It wasn’t the kind of wet you would take kindly to too; it was the kind that you felt when someone chucked a Rhelomian Jellysnail down your back. And then while you’d be writhing around screaming like an idiot, that same someone lets loose an entire bactatank worth of iced water down your spine. Hell, it even smelled like something out of a bactatank. That’s how fucking great it got.
The bug flung unceremoniously off his boot, before uncurling and wriggling away, terrified. Alan looked up, drank the view of the city for a good long second, before turning around, walking back the same way he came from. The ground sloshed and squelched with every step, and Alan cursed at every two.
“Quoolo geh?”
Alan ignored her, and kept walking. His little guide served little more than getting in his nerves, perhaps slightly outdoing the planet itself. At least the planet didn’t have a mouth and 2 vocal chords. He jabbed a hand into the handwarmer in his fatigue leathers, and whistled.
Vzetakha just looked at Alan incredulously, before huffing a little and following him, albeit reluctantly. She fiddled with the device on her wrist, still frowning. Clearly this human didn’t hold her nor highly planet highly, it was pretty obvious. The other humans weren’t like this; they gave her respect, well at least those that needed her help, most were just apprehensive of her species.
She hissed, tired of being handed the cold-shoulder, it wasn’t just his case, it was hers too. She hurried up to him, tapped his shoulder and pointed to his translator. Alan stopped, looked down at her, and muttered an expletive. He grabbed his translator, which was hanging off his hip, unclipped it from his belt and clicked the thing around the crown of his head. He pressed a button on the left side of his head, and a screen dropped from it protective covers. He pulled a microphone down from the other side, and positioned it right over his mouth. He tapped the outside of the screen twice. A bright blue display came over, prompting him to wait for the other translator to ping, and watched as the N’diri did the same, and after a moment, the two pieces were connected to one another, which was indicated by a yellow dot in a mini radar screen to the top right corner.
He nodded to her, continuing back down the path, albeit at a slower pace so that the N’diri could catch up. “What?”
She said muttered and a few words in English came on screen.
Why did come here?
Alan jumped over a rock on the ground, nearly slipping upon landing.
“Spencer was last seen over at the big pillar altar you people worship, before disappearing completely, with all of his N’diri and human escorts,” He paused, carefully navigating a treacherous drop. He jumped, grabbed onto a branch overhead, and swung himself over to the other side. He looked back, and saw Zvetakha leap gracefully off the edge, and onto the other side, without a hitch.
He heard a hiss, then some angry words. We do not worship rocks!
“Maybe these guys do, you don’t exactly believe in the same thing.” He joked, wiping his hand against his coat.
No, even they do not worship stone.
Alan shrugged, and stuck his right hand back into his jacket. Looks like they haven’t discovered humour yet.
“Anyway, so yeah, just wanted to scope the place out. Any clearings they could have used. Traces of blowback. Tall walls are useless if there’s a big enough hole punched through.”
Alan looked back, paused to wait and let the N’diri catch up, she came gliding towards him effortlessly, cutting through the air with well-practised agility. She was right next to him the next second. Alan ignored her finesse, or at least tried to.
Found anything interesting?
Alan skipped over a rock, glistening in the warm, mildew sun. Slowing his pace to a trot, he approached the main road, the sounds of civilisation increasing in volume with every careful step.
“No, nothing as of yet.”
Alan paused. A gentle, chirping came from the trees above, leaves rustled, and the wildlife sang its songs. The soft chatter was accompanied by the unnatural drones of autos that went along their way. A constant roar of rushing water came from the confluence, it’s splashes and whistles echoed across the marshes. The air was warm, humid and thick, and tainted with the sweet, cloying smell of hydrobatteries. It was uncomfortable, but bearable.
Blue alien reeds the height of cathedrals could be seen in the distance surrounding the city of Zharkrehl Bkazreel, hold to one of the greater Naibs. It rested upon a rugged slope, resting much like an old man of the hill, the sun shining down on his craggy face, with his beard of moss and bed of reeds. It was an impressive feat of engineering, the sheer massivity of it all demanding respect from even the mightiest lords.
The road that led to the city lay before it like a carpet of stone. It was worn over time, traces of wealth and grandeur long gone, replaced by grass and weeds growing in between the cobble. Every piece fit together like a huge jigsaw puzzle, every stone had a place among the others. It glistened in its wetness, treacherous for all but for the people of the land, of whom these roads belong to.
Here, where the virescence is eternal, every other creature here takes life a say a time. The river is alive, the ribbon of turquoise that so many creatures call home, and the mother of which many more belong to. She demands the respect from many a traveler, even from Alan. Alan who, never paid more than a second’s glance on art and beauty, must admit to be caught in the net that is the overwhelming beauty of the vast ecosystems, no matter the planet.
Absolutely nothing?
“No, nothing. No clearings, nothing.” He muttered, walking slowly upon the the stone road. He kept to the side, despite it being where the moss grew thickest. He figured that if he wanted to even come close finishing the case, it would be best not to get run over by the autos going about their ways. Granted, he’d gone through worse, but he’d rather not take the risk.
He watched Zvetakha hopped onto the road herself, and then to Alan’s side in a single bound. Her fringe clinging to her forehead like a second skin. She crossed her arms, and withdrew a small cylinder from her back pocket on her uniform.
Least that means he’s somewhere in the city
“Right,” He mumbled. He had already come to that conclusion, long before he even laid eyes on the city. Least his little native was keeping up.
So how do you want to start the investigation?
“Easy, at the gates, we’ll ask for records of autos entering and exiting the city.” He said, sidestepping a large slug creature. “After forwarding that to mission control, we’ll go investigate the bloody stone altar for clues”
Vzetakha opened her mouth, frowned, and closed it. She fondled her electric papelete apprehensively, pressing a little button near one of the ends lightly just to hear it’s gentle whir and watch the smoke rise from its end, curling itself around her, it’s light scent hanging still in the air. She let out a sigh, and returned it to her back pocket.
She looked up, noticing that he had stopped from the corner of her eye. She raised an eyebrow, looking into Alan’s ever impassive face. She felt uneasy, the uncanny resemblance the two species share was something she probably could never get used to.
“Yes?” She asked, feigning naivety. She plunged her own hands back into her uniform coat, shrugging and tilting her head to a side.
Drugs?
She shrugged again, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “No.” She looked him dead in the eye. Well, his right one anyway. His ruined left one creeped the hell out of her. She watched Alan’s face give a little twitch, before turning away and continuing along his way.
I could report you for this, you know.
“Hell of a thing for you to say.” She countered, digging a hand out of her pockets and following his footsteps. She heard Alan give a small laugh and shook her head. Human humour is another thing she can’t wrap her head around.
“What do you expect to find at the altar?” She asked, after a solid minute of silence.
I don’t know.Something useful.
She let out a short sigh, turning her gaze onto the passing autos. She cracked her knuckles, then returned her gaze onto the path below them.
Don’t worry, I’ll guide you along.
Zvetakaha looked up, purplexed, before shaking her head. “No, not that.” She muttered, with a small huff. Craning her head, she looked around warily. The natives passing around them were staring at her, even those from the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road, just as she expected. Well, not just at her, at the alien too, but mostly her. She wondered if it was curiosity or malice in their eyes.
“These people don’t like foreigners.” She muttered. Her hands felt clammy, but she her confidence never waivered.
Don’t worry, I can handle myself
Vzetakha looked up incredulously.
“I’m talking about myself, dipshit,”
She cringed as Alan gave her an innocent, sorry look that she knew was in no way or form genuine. Why he was doing this on purpose, she will never know.
Least you’re not an alien.
“I’m with one, that counts against something to these people,”
And being with a human degrades you how?
“I don’t know, it just does,”
What do you people have against us, anyway?
“You look like us. You shouldn’t. Religion said we are, as a species, unique. And then you people come along.”
You know, for a species who’s reached orbital space, your social infrastructure seems to be lacking.
“It’s our division that fuels our advances. Competition is key here. Last I checked, your species worked the same way.”
We did.
Zvetakha raised an eyebrow at that, interested in any elaboration, but none came her way. Alan had his back fully turned on her, his eyelids slightly lowered, and a yawn escaping his thin, pale lips, exposing his yellowed teeth from his sunken cheeks,
A real charmer, this one.
“You think we’ll face trouble?” She asked, dodging more of her people, for a human who’d reputedly took out the Jade with nothing more than his pistol and dry wit, it was questionable for him to choose to walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk.
I know we’ll face trouble
An optimist too.
Well, here we are.
No reply. Zvetaka peeked up at her unmoving compainion. It was as if he had turned to stone. She wondered if it was a biological reflex of a sort. He’s frowning now. How odd.
Alan found that the gates felt even more massive up close. The ancient wooden grains on the beams were mismatched, newer beams replacing the old whenever it was to weak to stand from the rot. It reminded Alan yet again of the harshness of the environment, but it was a mere brush of a thought. He was largely thinking of finding a way to get the local authorities to cooperate with him. The HQ had told them that the local police group had agreed to work with them, but to what extent, they did not specify. He was cautious of being boxed in. He could spy no visible way out from the side of the hill that overlooked the city, and he did not want the events of Slaachn to repeat themselves.
Alan cursed under his breath, grumbling about why the Bureau sent him alone. Granted, he could get in deeper in solving the kidnapping alone as compared to being with his own private army, but a few extra men with big guns wouldn’t hurt. He wondered if the reason behind him not going solo was because of his methods of operations on Slaachn.
Whatever the reason, he was now stuck with a pistol, a flashlight, a flask and a radio. And the lucky cigar, of course.
Yes, of course, captain, here are our seals.
Alan frowned, turned around, and saw Zvetakha saluting off another native. This one was wearing a garb that somewhat resembled Zvetakha’s own. The town’s own police force huh. If this was Slaachn, he would have already flagged them off as either incompetent, or corrupt.
He stared at them for two good, long seconds, then shrugged, figuring it was best for her to handle this alone. He walked closer towards the gargantuan gates, running a finger against its slick and shiny moss. To Alan, the whole thing seemed to be whole. No seams, nothing.
He tapped the stone floor twice with his boot.
“Keep it on,” He said, walking through the gates. His nose wrinkled as he picked up the stench of sulfur. It seems that the foretold acrid stench of the markets already getting to him. He wheezed, and turned back immediately, ignoring the odd looks from the local populace.
He found himself a spot near the opening of the gates that overlooked the river nearby, and decided to have himself stand there. He sneezed, and sniffed, cursing the alien flu variant that was marauding his immune system.
Yes, We have been briefed about the matter completely. We know what customs not to cross.
Alan brushed a spider creature off his sleeve. How it got there, he did not know. He scratched the back of his neck, and caught a small child staring at him.
The Alien can be trusted. You have my word.
Alan met his eyes, in which he read a whole lot of curiosity, and perhaps a dash of apprehension.
Thank you Captain, may Cjunah watch over you
The kid just stood there, unmoving, a hand gripping tightly to his mother’s own. Alan flipped the little guy the bird, and smirked at the kid tried to mimic him. He wondered what Zvetakha would have done if she had caught him. She would know, after all.
Yes, uh, there is another thing, the human wishes the records of all in and outgoing autos from 4 June until today.
4 June. Five months before the disappearance. Either the council’s been giving her his reports, or she’s telepathic. Maybe it was just dumb coincidence. He hoped it was.
Oh, already? How convenient, thank you captain.
Silence. She’s not going to reply to that.
He waited for a minute or two, staring into the bark of the reeds, as well as the moss on the walls, all while ignoring the glances and stares of the people. Some were pointing at him, even. He wondered what they honestly thought of him.
Alright Captain, have a good day.
He took that as his cue, walking back into the gates, the smell and sounds of a marketplace nearby threatening to overwhelm his senses.
“That went well,” He mumbled, reaching out a hand for the holodrive chip.
It sure did.
He eyed her as she carefully placed the chip into his palm, “Well, now, for the next course of action.”
Which is?
“The stone pillars,” Alan muttered, already leading the way, sniffing harder as the smells of acrid meats sting the insides of his nose. At this rate, he might as well forgo his ongoing sinus treatment. He noticed her cock her head, which was followed by a deep stare. He returned the stare for a paltry few seconds, before turning his back on her. He sincerely hoped she wasn’t reading his thoughts.
To Alan, the market was a total mess. A lost child wailed for his mother, a man frantically searched for his missing dog-thing, shopkeepers screamed out offers on the top of their voices to attract customers and customers desperately tried to bargain for the best possible prices.
Crowded with stalls selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, or meat roasting on roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust red and dusty yellow piles, or spilled bright green from sacks as large as feed bags. Rich and unfamiliar scents cut through the smell of engines, so heavy he could taste them in his mouth, like the air inside a greenhouse.
Smells of freshly slaughtered meat hanging from hooks, smells of baked goods and cooking, rancid smell of body odor, smell of manure and droppings, caged and tethered livestock, stalls overflowing with produce, vegetables spilled onto the muddy ground, splashing through puddles, stall holders hollering out their special deals, customers haggling over prices, people gossiping in huddles, cacophony of sound, bulging bags swinging into the people's legs.
Alan craned his neck above the crowd, looking past their wares and their customers. He wiped a bead of sweat as it rolled down his brow. The market was a splattering mixture of colours, sight and sound. It wasn’t unpleasant to Alan, but it wasn’t entirely nice to be in itself either. He let out another cough, which was followed by some sniffing and wheezing. He swore under his breath to top it all off.
How’s the throat feeling?
He thought of how oddly specific the question was. Maybe he was reading the text wrong. “There isn’t a goddamn directory anywhere,” He mumbled, brushing a local aside.
Well, there is actually.
Alan turned around, and faced the smirking D’niri. She seemed to be amused by all the torture conducted on his senses.
“Then where the fuck is it?”
Relax inspector, take your time, experience the experience of a D’nirian city-market. I’m pretty sure there isn’t another place in the galaxy you-
“Cut the crap, or else it’ll reflect badly on your report, captain, ”
What will you report me for? Being humorous? You don't seem to be smiling as much now do you? Maybe it’s the-
“Shut up,” Alan said, finding a wall to lean on. Giddiness took over, and he wondered if there was gas in the air that didn't agree with the human body. He shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The fuck do you want, Zve-,” a cough left his lungs, cutting his sentence short.
Nothing. By the way, Zve? We’re giving each other nicknames now? How cute.
Alan didn’t respond to that, much more focused on keeping himself breathing. He staggered, making his way to an empty alleyway nearby, using the walls for support. The locals kept well away from him, just as he’d like it, and he hoped he wouldn't slip over the moss and mud on the cobble path he was on. He was creating a scene, everything sounded louder.
What’s wrong?
Alan found a bench nearby, and abandoned his original plan to instead collapse on the plank of wood that served to provide rest. He dragged himself onto the seat, a hand clutching at his chest as a thudding pain came from within.
Alan clenched his jaw, and clawed at his throat as his own neck muscles began to clamp down on his nerves and arteries. His lungs felt ablaze, and the mucus was building up quickly in his nasal cavity. He managed a nod, and reached his other hand out from his chest towards Zvetakha. He raised his head, but didn’t meet her eyes, instead letting their gaze fall onto the stall behind her.
Zvetakha paled, before reaching into her waist pouch and drawing out a respirator. She held it in her hands for a moment, just watching Alan spasm out, before passing it to him. She watched as Delmarr forced the apparatus into his face, not even bothering to remove the film to that clung to it, his fingers and movements jerky.
She watched as Alan took a breath, then two, then simply fell limp against the seat. She could see him devote all his remaining strength into forcing air into the mask. She was going to need to send him to the apothecaries. He was already coughing out blood, but she wasn’t sure that he himself noticed it.
You bitch
She watched as he let loose an entire volley of coughs, and noted a particular gurgling sound coming from his chest. Lungs, most probably. Chlorine does that to humans, she supposed.
“I’m sorry, but I had to do that.”
Bitch.
She watched him wheeze and sputter, his whole body twitching and his breathing cut short with every breath he took. His eyes were bloodshot, and tears were running down the side of his face. She read somewhere that his people killed each other this exact same way. Somehow, that made her feel a little more worse.
HQ will hear about this.
“And what? You expect them to fire me? Unless you somehow managed to die from all this, I think I’ll be under the radar.”
Zvetakha smiled solemnly, she wouldn’t get in too much trouble even if she did accidently killed him. Everyone hated Alan anyway.
I’ll get you for this.
“And risk compromising the mission? Inspector, my actions were a calculated risk. I had to make sure you are who you are, or if you’re one of the zealots in disguise.”
Zealots?
“You’re not the only detective here, Delmarr, I’ve my own suspects behind the kidnapping as well.”
Zvetakha continued watching Alan, thankful that his convulsions stopped before it could get to the point where he could be suffering even more seriously than she predicted.
Either ways, she needed to get him moving. Fast.
“Can you stand?”
Fuck you.
“You need to see a doctor.”
Human.
“Not your choice, Delmarr.”
Fuck you
Zvetakha shook her head, letting out a hiss of frustration as she did so. Something told her that even if she got him to an apothecaries, he’d go out of his way to make their lives difficult too. She felt that perhaps simply giving him the mask in the first place was a better choice of action.
She wondered if he was always like this. Probably so.
He should be able to get moving in 5 minutes. The moles were not lethal enough to kill him, unless if it were to be left untreated, but she didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. He might still somehow die, after all.
She waited him to stop his quivering, and she tried to get him to stand. She didn’t know where the apothecaries is but she had to get there. Perhaps, she didn’t think this through entirely. He grabbed his arm, and urged him to stand. Alan shot her an accusing glance, but stood anyway. He was dumb but apparently not entirely so. Smart enough to know when he needed help anyway.
Once he was on his feet, she let him rest his weight on her shoulders, her scales protesting a little about supporting his weight.
“Here, the doctors isn’t far from here.”
Alan simply grunted, and let her take him wherever she would. He was at her mercy, and she knew it. He just hoped she wouldn’t lead him to harm. Any more harm anyway.
Either ways, he didn’t have a choice. He could go with her, or die sitting there.
He took a step, and another, and he made a mental note to get her back.
One more cough, and the darkness overcame.
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