Neo Chronicles: Black Void
Episode 6: Mux Modell
Table of Contents
So here I am, lost on some snowy lookin', desert like planet with three suns. On a bridge in some backwater hick town full of aliens of all shapes an' sizes, starin' at some twenty-some odd year lookin' white, human lady who used to be some silver, slender, cousin of ET lookin' noodle, with my jaw open wide out of—what—bewilderment, an' the lady standin' here asks—she actually has the nerve to ask,
“What's your name, stranger?”
Are you serious? Is this seriously happening? I don't know. I just don't know. I'm startin' to think I shoulda jumped off the bridge when I had the chance. Don't matter that that green, muddy whatever liquid could be poison. Don't matter that it could be deep. Don't matter that I can't swim an' probably could drowned. It woulda made a lot more sense than this.
“Como te llamas?”
Is that Spanish? This alien lady knows Spanish, too? What in the world is goin' on here? Does anyone know? I sho don't. I'd love for the world to make sense again.
“I'm sorry,” I finally decide to say, “what?”
“Oh, good. You talk like that. I'm not as familiar with that other lang—”
“What are you? Who are you? Where'd you come from? How am I hearin' this? How'm I hearin' you? What the crud—”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” she says. Can you believe—“Calm down. I thought if I'd look like a human, you'd—”
“I'd what, somehow be less confused than I am? Well, that backfired.”
“I could change back if you'd—”
“No! No, please, no more changing. Just answers. Starting with you. From the top—hold on a sec.” I look away for a bit to get my head straight. Gotta come back down to earth for a bit, or whatever this planet's called.
Alright, I'm Darius Darrell O'neal, some 15 year ol' black kid from Next City, Alabama. It's the year 3000, an' ain't no one on Earth ever heard of aliens, yet somehow I get caught up with one named Ri'lar, an' now we're on the run from some other aliens who happen to be gangstas—Oh my God, what in the world is up with this story—nope, focus. Back here. Gotta be here now. Things happen, I'm here, an' this is what's up. A'ight cool, cool. I'm cool. Everything else is crazy, but I'm cool.
“Now,” I say. “My name is Darius. As you somehow know, I'm a kid from Earth. Yeah, uh—how do you know that? And uh, how do you—I dunno, uh. Who're—How're you? How's you're day been? Yeah, how's your day been?”
“Fine, thanks for asking, Darius.” She says my name slowly, sounding out each syllable like she's heard it for the first time. “This isn't the first time I've met a human before. My name is Ryndis-Ran, by the way.” I sound out her name after she says it, too. Rin...dis...Rhan...RinDisRhan...RinDisRhan—I got it. “The last human I met just called me Ran. It could've been just him, but from what I can tell, you humans like to shorten things.”
We somehow decide to leave the bridge and walk together. I'm still lost, but she seems to know where she's goin'. We arrive at some building. I'd read the sign, but you know—Po' black folks like me can't read. God, I'm hating outer space more and more. When we get inside, I smell something an' for the first time since I've been here, it doesn't smell bad.
“You look like you're hungry,” Ran says. And boy is she on the money with that.
“Well, you're absolutely right, but—” I'm a lil' hesitant about the prospect of food. “Every place I've been to hasn't really served much of anything...good.”
“Yeah, I figured as much, but I think you'll enjoy this.”
The place turns out to be a dine in restaurant. She gets us a table, orders for both of us. I get some white, purple, an' green lumpy stuff. It kinda tastes like eggs. It's edible. It's actually kinda good. I don't know what that mess Ran got is. It looks like some sorta soup with eyeballs an' bugs, but whatever. Whatever, whatever. I'm gettin' fed.
Ran goes on to tell me about what she's all about. That whole shapeshifting thing is something her whole race of people can do. Part of some survivor mechanism they got. They blend in wherever they go. Quick to pick up on things too, like languages. She doesn't have a translator, so all the languages she speaks, she actually knows. I ask her how she picked up on English and Spanish.
“Well, that other human I was tellin' you about, his name was Ken, and that's sorta all he spoke.” She and him were kinda tight. He somehow got lost in space and ended up bumpin' into her, and they were together ever since. I ask where he is now, and she gets real quiet. Looks like a touchy subject. I sit there wonderin' about all the possible things that coulda happened. Not much to it, though. Either they broke up or he died. Whatever the case, I just leave it at that.
“Since you're the second human I've seen out here, does that mean that Earth's finally recognized as part of the—” I cut her off right there.
“Oh no, not in the least. At least, I don't think. As far as I know, I'm the only other human ever to set foot out here. I mean, we tryin'. I've been seein' commercials on TV about vacations off world in space stations and on Mars, Europa, the moon, but nothin' out here.”
“You are a long way from home.”
“Tell me about it.” I go on to talk a lil' 'bout how I got here. I tell her about Ri'lar, the gangstas that's chasin' us, an' how cruddy everything's been. She sorta chuckles over it. Tellin' it to someone—actually hearin' myself talk about it out loud sorta gets me to laugh too. It's just that crazy.
“Bottom line is,” I say. “I'm workin' on findin' some way to get back. And I know that's not gonna happen for a while, with all the crud goin' on, not to mention how difficult it might be gettin' past the Milky Way's rules, but it's gonna happen.”
“Well, best of luck to ya.” It's lookin' like it's time to go. She gives me a hug, which is weird—weird for her knowing so much about what earth customs, and weird because I just got hugged by a girl. Talk about coodies. What's even more weirder is me kinda likin' it.
We say our goodbyes an' part ways. I'm still lost on the street, but at least I'm not hungry no more. If I keep wandering around, I might just bump into ol' whale-face. I'm jus' keepin' a low profile, workin' extra hard not to space out an' start trouble again. Eventually make it back to the warehouse, but—surprise, surprise—Ri'lar ain't there no more. Snake head is, though, an' he gives me somethin' of a menacing hiss. I guess he wants me to get out, which is fine by me.
Back on the streets, with nothin' to do, an' no where to go. Maybe if I make it back to the teleport field—yeah, I could do that. It'd take me back to the ship, an' everything'd be okay.
On my way there, I dunno what happens, but I space out again. For a brief moment, I was thinkin' of home, an' BAM, bump into someone else. Or someone else bumps into me. Turns out it was the latter, but I say “sorry” anyway.
“You better be,” I hear in an all too familiar deep voice.
“Ri'lar!” I'm actually happy to see him. I almost give him a hug, but it don't look like he into that kinda thing. Sho looks like he needs one though.
“Where'd you run off to?” he asks.
“I got hungry.”
“Whatever, we're leaving.” And with that, we're gone. He doesn't ask how I've been, if I got into trouble, nothin' like that. I don't bother to tell him. Not like he needs to know or anything. I doubt I'll see Ran again, and hopefully, I won't have to see this planet again, neither.
Back on the ship, we both take our seats. Then it's back on the black an' lonely road, destination unknown. Well, unknown to me until I ask.
“Where we headed to now?”
“To meet a guy.”
“Will he help me get home?”
Ri'lar gives me a stare. Tryin' to find the best way to put it. Why do grownups do that kinda thing, anyway? Do they think we can't handle it? All this tryna spare our feelings an' junk. Jus' be direct. Answer the dang question.
“In a...roundabout way...yes.”
A roundabout—what's that supposed t'mean? This rate, I'm never makin' it home. I'm so fed up with his ugly mug, I go to the back and lay in my pile of junk, makeshift bed. The rest of the trip is quiet on both ends. Ri'lar doesn't say anything else, and I don't bother with him.
After passing by countless other planets and moons, forced to go through warp drive again, we arrive on some rock about half a lightyear out from nowhere. The first thing I notice lookin' out from my monitor window is that this rock is exactly that—a rock. There's no buildings, no cities or towns, no people. Whatever guy we came to meet sho' as heck ain't here.
Ri'lar opens the hatch and asks if I'm coming or not. Not like I have much else to do, so I tag along, but as soon as I set foot on the rock outside, I'm assaulted by a gust of wind. It takes me to my knees, I'm all coughin' real bad, spittin' up phlegm, an' junk. Oh, shoot, that spit had some blood in it. I don't know what the crud is goin' on, but it's like the whole atmosphere's gangin' up on me.
I rush my way back into the ship, an' Ri'lar follows me in, closing the hatch behind him. The coughing slows up, an' it looks like I'll live. A couple of dry heaves, an' I look up to him.
“I don't know what's out there—” dang, this coughing's drivin' me crazy. I'm still spittin' up some blood, “but whatever it is—” Startin' to lose my vision, too? Just not my day. “Whatever it is, I can't breathe it.”
I hear the guy grumble to himself a bit, and then head to front, looking in some compartment by the passenger's seat. Some interesting words he chooses, too. “Staak”, “mosst”, I think there's a “pnokerat” in there too. Can't help but chuckle as I start to get my bearings straight.
He comes back with what looks like a motorcycle helmet. He turns some knobs on it, and asks me, “what type of gas do you breathe, oxygen?”
What kinda question is that? Of course it's oxygen—the same thing bein' pumped in this ship.
“Yeah.”
He hands me the helmet and tells me to put it on. Hats were never my thing. Just never liked havin' stuff on my head, but seeing as how this is a matter of life an' death... It fits kinda snuggly. I guess it's the right size. I put the visor down, and then it starts to get all high techy. It seals itself shut, and inside the visor part it acts like—well, sorta like a computer screen. All sorts of funky symbols show up. Nothin' I can read or understand, but it's still cool. The words go away—minimized I guess, and I see a green bar at the top right corner.
Ri'lar opens the hatch again and tells me to come on. When I look outside, I see that green bar go red. Maybe it's supposed to tell me about how the air is. That would make sense, I suppose. Before I leave the ship, I pick up that sword of mine. I hope I don't end up in another fight, but if it goes down like how it did on the last planet, I'd like to have it.
This time on the rock, things go a bit more smoothly. I'm still breathing, and it's still oxygen. The place is super dusty. It's almost too much to see the guy in front of you. This helmet's actually doin' wonders helpin' me out with that. I think it picks up on heat signatures too, because through this dust storm, I can see like some highlighted outline of Ri'lar's body still moving forward. Pretty nifty.
After what feels like an hour of walking, we make it to a cave. The helmet picks up an a lot more heat sources in here. Moving in closer, the sources look like big eyed rats with feathers or some mess. If Jade were here, she'd probably think they were cute, but they really just look weird, and not in a good way.
They carry on like regular people—cave people, but still people. This place is super primitive. They use rocks an' stones for tools, communicate through grunts, groans, an' gestures. I think I have an easier time understanding them, than I do everything else I've met up with. It's the simple life, for simple folks, something more my speed. All they need is a computer and some video games, an' I could make a home outta this place.
It's still a cave though. I mean, Earth may not be the biggest an' brightest thing out there, but we're a lil' bit better off than some cave people. I ask Ri'lar how a place like this is modern enough to be recognized, an' he tells me somethin' like,
“It doesn't matter how 'modern' the system is. As long as they can communicate with the rest of the galaxy, they can be as fartrot as they wanna be.”
The longer we walk around here, the more I get the feeling that we're not wanted here. These beaver things are startin' to give us the stink eye. I'm hearin' some menacing snarls and growls under their breath. Ri'lar sees it too, I know it, but he doesn't seem bothered by it.
“Who's this guy we came to see, again?” I ask.
“His name is Mux Modell. He has some information we need.” Ri'lar responds. Frankly, I'm surprised he gave a straight answer. That's a first—a pleasant first. I'm tempted to ask another question, just to see if he'll keep it up, but I don't chance it.
The people around here get even more antsy. Ri'lar tells me they're not too fond of offworlders. The planet's small, barely formed all the way, and the only inhabitants here are all related. But he assures me that as long as we don't tick them off, we should be fine.
“Just don't make eye contact for too long,” he says.
We end up walking towards a great, big, rocky wall. Ri'lar puts his big, stubby, three fingered hand on it, searching for what I guess is a hidden switch. When he finds it, the wall quakes an' opens up like those hidden passage ways in the cartoons.
When we come out on the other side, everything seems to hit the fan. These big bear lookin' things start hoopin' an' hollerin' like rapid monkeys, an' that sets all the tiny feathered rats on edge too. Ri'lar tells me not to make any sudden moves, and just keep close behind him as he eases his way forward.
All I know is, right about now, I'm so glad I brought my sword with me. You bet I keep that thing in close. Holdin' on with both hands in case they wanna try somethin' funky.
Then about five of those giant bear creatures step out from the crowd, armed with what looks like cannons for guns. They bark some somethin' our way, an' Ri'lar talks back. Ha, he forgot to turn his translator off, 'cuz I can hear him plain as day. He says,
“We're just here to see Mux Modell. Is he around?”
The bear people don't seem to like that name too much. The bark some more, shout some more absurdities. Ri'lar for the first time I've ever seen him looks surprised. “'Traitor?'” he repeats. The bears c**k their cannons an' without hesitation open fire on us.
I jump for dear life, ducking for cover. Whatever kinda heat their packin' it's loaded. Looked like they shot a legit fire ball at us. And here I was expectin' rocks an' slingshots, these guys actually have plasma weapons, an' judging from the craters they're makin', the guns pack a serious punch. Every last one of these freaks start throwin' everything they got at us. Ri'lar takes out his pulse pistol an' starts shootin' back. I'm more or less usin' the sword as a bat, only swattin' at the junk comin' my way.
I think it's safe to say whatever we came for is a no show, an' we might as well head back to the ship, but when I tell Ri'lar that, he says that we're not leavin' until we get what we came for. Naturally, I'm objectin' to that, but he ain't listening.
So what do we do? We run for our dang lives, that's what we do. Deeper an' deeper into the cave city where everyone hates us. Duckin' in every nook-and-cranny we can find for cover while everyone's still shooting at us.
“I'm tellin' you, Ri'lar, we gotsta go.”
Whale-face still ain't listenin', an' I'm not fixin' to run back to the ship by myself, so I'm stuck.
For the moment, it looks like we shook 'em. We end up hidin' behind some grand ol' boulder, lookin' over our shoulders for more plasma fire, an' crazy rabid screams. I take the time to catch my breath an' pray. Dear God, I do not wanna die today, especially not like this. Ri'lar sticks his head from the cover like an idiot. I half way hope he gets it shot off for gettin' me into another stupid predicament.
I close my eyes for just a moment. No more than two seconds, an' when I open 'em, I see some imp lookin' thing tryna sneak up on me. It definitely startles me. Ri'lar hears me jump an' shout, an' the imp tries to make a run for it, but Ri'lar, with his big ol' gorilla sized arms, reaches out an' snatches the lil' dude up.
“Mux Modell,” whale-face says. “We need to talk.”
Episode 6: Mux Modell
Table of Contents
So here I am, lost on some snowy lookin', desert like planet with three suns. On a bridge in some backwater hick town full of aliens of all shapes an' sizes, starin' at some twenty-some odd year lookin' white, human lady who used to be some silver, slender, cousin of ET lookin' noodle, with my jaw open wide out of—what—bewilderment, an' the lady standin' here asks—she actually has the nerve to ask,
“What's your name, stranger?”
Are you serious? Is this seriously happening? I don't know. I just don't know. I'm startin' to think I shoulda jumped off the bridge when I had the chance. Don't matter that that green, muddy whatever liquid could be poison. Don't matter that it could be deep. Don't matter that I can't swim an' probably could drowned. It woulda made a lot more sense than this.
“Como te llamas?”
Is that Spanish? This alien lady knows Spanish, too? What in the world is goin' on here? Does anyone know? I sho don't. I'd love for the world to make sense again.
“I'm sorry,” I finally decide to say, “what?”
“Oh, good. You talk like that. I'm not as familiar with that other lang—”
“What are you? Who are you? Where'd you come from? How am I hearin' this? How'm I hearin' you? What the crud—”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” she says. Can you believe—“Calm down. I thought if I'd look like a human, you'd—”
“I'd what, somehow be less confused than I am? Well, that backfired.”
“I could change back if you'd—”
“No! No, please, no more changing. Just answers. Starting with you. From the top—hold on a sec.” I look away for a bit to get my head straight. Gotta come back down to earth for a bit, or whatever this planet's called.
Alright, I'm Darius Darrell O'neal, some 15 year ol' black kid from Next City, Alabama. It's the year 3000, an' ain't no one on Earth ever heard of aliens, yet somehow I get caught up with one named Ri'lar, an' now we're on the run from some other aliens who happen to be gangstas—Oh my God, what in the world is up with this story—nope, focus. Back here. Gotta be here now. Things happen, I'm here, an' this is what's up. A'ight cool, cool. I'm cool. Everything else is crazy, but I'm cool.
“Now,” I say. “My name is Darius. As you somehow know, I'm a kid from Earth. Yeah, uh—how do you know that? And uh, how do you—I dunno, uh. Who're—How're you? How's you're day been? Yeah, how's your day been?”
“Fine, thanks for asking, Darius.” She says my name slowly, sounding out each syllable like she's heard it for the first time. “This isn't the first time I've met a human before. My name is Ryndis-Ran, by the way.” I sound out her name after she says it, too. Rin...dis...Rhan...RinDisRhan...RinDisRhan—I got it. “The last human I met just called me Ran. It could've been just him, but from what I can tell, you humans like to shorten things.”
We somehow decide to leave the bridge and walk together. I'm still lost, but she seems to know where she's goin'. We arrive at some building. I'd read the sign, but you know—Po' black folks like me can't read. God, I'm hating outer space more and more. When we get inside, I smell something an' for the first time since I've been here, it doesn't smell bad.
“You look like you're hungry,” Ran says. And boy is she on the money with that.
“Well, you're absolutely right, but—” I'm a lil' hesitant about the prospect of food. “Every place I've been to hasn't really served much of anything...good.”
“Yeah, I figured as much, but I think you'll enjoy this.”
The place turns out to be a dine in restaurant. She gets us a table, orders for both of us. I get some white, purple, an' green lumpy stuff. It kinda tastes like eggs. It's edible. It's actually kinda good. I don't know what that mess Ran got is. It looks like some sorta soup with eyeballs an' bugs, but whatever. Whatever, whatever. I'm gettin' fed.
Ran goes on to tell me about what she's all about. That whole shapeshifting thing is something her whole race of people can do. Part of some survivor mechanism they got. They blend in wherever they go. Quick to pick up on things too, like languages. She doesn't have a translator, so all the languages she speaks, she actually knows. I ask her how she picked up on English and Spanish.
“Well, that other human I was tellin' you about, his name was Ken, and that's sorta all he spoke.” She and him were kinda tight. He somehow got lost in space and ended up bumpin' into her, and they were together ever since. I ask where he is now, and she gets real quiet. Looks like a touchy subject. I sit there wonderin' about all the possible things that coulda happened. Not much to it, though. Either they broke up or he died. Whatever the case, I just leave it at that.
“Since you're the second human I've seen out here, does that mean that Earth's finally recognized as part of the—” I cut her off right there.
“Oh no, not in the least. At least, I don't think. As far as I know, I'm the only other human ever to set foot out here. I mean, we tryin'. I've been seein' commercials on TV about vacations off world in space stations and on Mars, Europa, the moon, but nothin' out here.”
“You are a long way from home.”
“Tell me about it.” I go on to talk a lil' 'bout how I got here. I tell her about Ri'lar, the gangstas that's chasin' us, an' how cruddy everything's been. She sorta chuckles over it. Tellin' it to someone—actually hearin' myself talk about it out loud sorta gets me to laugh too. It's just that crazy.
“Bottom line is,” I say. “I'm workin' on findin' some way to get back. And I know that's not gonna happen for a while, with all the crud goin' on, not to mention how difficult it might be gettin' past the Milky Way's rules, but it's gonna happen.”
“Well, best of luck to ya.” It's lookin' like it's time to go. She gives me a hug, which is weird—weird for her knowing so much about what earth customs, and weird because I just got hugged by a girl. Talk about coodies. What's even more weirder is me kinda likin' it.
We say our goodbyes an' part ways. I'm still lost on the street, but at least I'm not hungry no more. If I keep wandering around, I might just bump into ol' whale-face. I'm jus' keepin' a low profile, workin' extra hard not to space out an' start trouble again. Eventually make it back to the warehouse, but—surprise, surprise—Ri'lar ain't there no more. Snake head is, though, an' he gives me somethin' of a menacing hiss. I guess he wants me to get out, which is fine by me.
Back on the streets, with nothin' to do, an' no where to go. Maybe if I make it back to the teleport field—yeah, I could do that. It'd take me back to the ship, an' everything'd be okay.
On my way there, I dunno what happens, but I space out again. For a brief moment, I was thinkin' of home, an' BAM, bump into someone else. Or someone else bumps into me. Turns out it was the latter, but I say “sorry” anyway.
“You better be,” I hear in an all too familiar deep voice.
“Ri'lar!” I'm actually happy to see him. I almost give him a hug, but it don't look like he into that kinda thing. Sho looks like he needs one though.
“Where'd you run off to?” he asks.
“I got hungry.”
“Whatever, we're leaving.” And with that, we're gone. He doesn't ask how I've been, if I got into trouble, nothin' like that. I don't bother to tell him. Not like he needs to know or anything. I doubt I'll see Ran again, and hopefully, I won't have to see this planet again, neither.
Back on the ship, we both take our seats. Then it's back on the black an' lonely road, destination unknown. Well, unknown to me until I ask.
“Where we headed to now?”
“To meet a guy.”
“Will he help me get home?”
Ri'lar gives me a stare. Tryin' to find the best way to put it. Why do grownups do that kinda thing, anyway? Do they think we can't handle it? All this tryna spare our feelings an' junk. Jus' be direct. Answer the dang question.
“In a...roundabout way...yes.”
A roundabout—what's that supposed t'mean? This rate, I'm never makin' it home. I'm so fed up with his ugly mug, I go to the back and lay in my pile of junk, makeshift bed. The rest of the trip is quiet on both ends. Ri'lar doesn't say anything else, and I don't bother with him.
After passing by countless other planets and moons, forced to go through warp drive again, we arrive on some rock about half a lightyear out from nowhere. The first thing I notice lookin' out from my monitor window is that this rock is exactly that—a rock. There's no buildings, no cities or towns, no people. Whatever guy we came to meet sho' as heck ain't here.
Ri'lar opens the hatch and asks if I'm coming or not. Not like I have much else to do, so I tag along, but as soon as I set foot on the rock outside, I'm assaulted by a gust of wind. It takes me to my knees, I'm all coughin' real bad, spittin' up phlegm, an' junk. Oh, shoot, that spit had some blood in it. I don't know what the crud is goin' on, but it's like the whole atmosphere's gangin' up on me.
I rush my way back into the ship, an' Ri'lar follows me in, closing the hatch behind him. The coughing slows up, an' it looks like I'll live. A couple of dry heaves, an' I look up to him.
“I don't know what's out there—” dang, this coughing's drivin' me crazy. I'm still spittin' up some blood, “but whatever it is—” Startin' to lose my vision, too? Just not my day. “Whatever it is, I can't breathe it.”
I hear the guy grumble to himself a bit, and then head to front, looking in some compartment by the passenger's seat. Some interesting words he chooses, too. “Staak”, “mosst”, I think there's a “pnokerat” in there too. Can't help but chuckle as I start to get my bearings straight.
He comes back with what looks like a motorcycle helmet. He turns some knobs on it, and asks me, “what type of gas do you breathe, oxygen?”
What kinda question is that? Of course it's oxygen—the same thing bein' pumped in this ship.
“Yeah.”
He hands me the helmet and tells me to put it on. Hats were never my thing. Just never liked havin' stuff on my head, but seeing as how this is a matter of life an' death... It fits kinda snuggly. I guess it's the right size. I put the visor down, and then it starts to get all high techy. It seals itself shut, and inside the visor part it acts like—well, sorta like a computer screen. All sorts of funky symbols show up. Nothin' I can read or understand, but it's still cool. The words go away—minimized I guess, and I see a green bar at the top right corner.
Ri'lar opens the hatch again and tells me to come on. When I look outside, I see that green bar go red. Maybe it's supposed to tell me about how the air is. That would make sense, I suppose. Before I leave the ship, I pick up that sword of mine. I hope I don't end up in another fight, but if it goes down like how it did on the last planet, I'd like to have it.
This time on the rock, things go a bit more smoothly. I'm still breathing, and it's still oxygen. The place is super dusty. It's almost too much to see the guy in front of you. This helmet's actually doin' wonders helpin' me out with that. I think it picks up on heat signatures too, because through this dust storm, I can see like some highlighted outline of Ri'lar's body still moving forward. Pretty nifty.
After what feels like an hour of walking, we make it to a cave. The helmet picks up an a lot more heat sources in here. Moving in closer, the sources look like big eyed rats with feathers or some mess. If Jade were here, she'd probably think they were cute, but they really just look weird, and not in a good way.
They carry on like regular people—cave people, but still people. This place is super primitive. They use rocks an' stones for tools, communicate through grunts, groans, an' gestures. I think I have an easier time understanding them, than I do everything else I've met up with. It's the simple life, for simple folks, something more my speed. All they need is a computer and some video games, an' I could make a home outta this place.
It's still a cave though. I mean, Earth may not be the biggest an' brightest thing out there, but we're a lil' bit better off than some cave people. I ask Ri'lar how a place like this is modern enough to be recognized, an' he tells me somethin' like,
“It doesn't matter how 'modern' the system is. As long as they can communicate with the rest of the galaxy, they can be as fartrot as they wanna be.”
The longer we walk around here, the more I get the feeling that we're not wanted here. These beaver things are startin' to give us the stink eye. I'm hearin' some menacing snarls and growls under their breath. Ri'lar sees it too, I know it, but he doesn't seem bothered by it.
“Who's this guy we came to see, again?” I ask.
“His name is Mux Modell. He has some information we need.” Ri'lar responds. Frankly, I'm surprised he gave a straight answer. That's a first—a pleasant first. I'm tempted to ask another question, just to see if he'll keep it up, but I don't chance it.
The people around here get even more antsy. Ri'lar tells me they're not too fond of offworlders. The planet's small, barely formed all the way, and the only inhabitants here are all related. But he assures me that as long as we don't tick them off, we should be fine.
“Just don't make eye contact for too long,” he says.
We end up walking towards a great, big, rocky wall. Ri'lar puts his big, stubby, three fingered hand on it, searching for what I guess is a hidden switch. When he finds it, the wall quakes an' opens up like those hidden passage ways in the cartoons.
When we come out on the other side, everything seems to hit the fan. These big bear lookin' things start hoopin' an' hollerin' like rapid monkeys, an' that sets all the tiny feathered rats on edge too. Ri'lar tells me not to make any sudden moves, and just keep close behind him as he eases his way forward.
All I know is, right about now, I'm so glad I brought my sword with me. You bet I keep that thing in close. Holdin' on with both hands in case they wanna try somethin' funky.
Then about five of those giant bear creatures step out from the crowd, armed with what looks like cannons for guns. They bark some somethin' our way, an' Ri'lar talks back. Ha, he forgot to turn his translator off, 'cuz I can hear him plain as day. He says,
“We're just here to see Mux Modell. Is he around?”
The bear people don't seem to like that name too much. The bark some more, shout some more absurdities. Ri'lar for the first time I've ever seen him looks surprised. “'Traitor?'” he repeats. The bears c**k their cannons an' without hesitation open fire on us.
I jump for dear life, ducking for cover. Whatever kinda heat their packin' it's loaded. Looked like they shot a legit fire ball at us. And here I was expectin' rocks an' slingshots, these guys actually have plasma weapons, an' judging from the craters they're makin', the guns pack a serious punch. Every last one of these freaks start throwin' everything they got at us. Ri'lar takes out his pulse pistol an' starts shootin' back. I'm more or less usin' the sword as a bat, only swattin' at the junk comin' my way.
I think it's safe to say whatever we came for is a no show, an' we might as well head back to the ship, but when I tell Ri'lar that, he says that we're not leavin' until we get what we came for. Naturally, I'm objectin' to that, but he ain't listening.
So what do we do? We run for our dang lives, that's what we do. Deeper an' deeper into the cave city where everyone hates us. Duckin' in every nook-and-cranny we can find for cover while everyone's still shooting at us.
“I'm tellin' you, Ri'lar, we gotsta go.”
Whale-face still ain't listenin', an' I'm not fixin' to run back to the ship by myself, so I'm stuck.
For the moment, it looks like we shook 'em. We end up hidin' behind some grand ol' boulder, lookin' over our shoulders for more plasma fire, an' crazy rabid screams. I take the time to catch my breath an' pray. Dear God, I do not wanna die today, especially not like this. Ri'lar sticks his head from the cover like an idiot. I half way hope he gets it shot off for gettin' me into another stupid predicament.
I close my eyes for just a moment. No more than two seconds, an' when I open 'em, I see some imp lookin' thing tryna sneak up on me. It definitely startles me. Ri'lar hears me jump an' shout, an' the imp tries to make a run for it, but Ri'lar, with his big ol' gorilla sized arms, reaches out an' snatches the lil' dude up.
“Mux Modell,” whale-face says. “We need to talk.”
