1,947, Part 7

When full consciousness returned, Predericon was relieved to find that she’d regained more or less full eyesight and hearing, and could tell that a few more days would complete the healing process. She estimated she had been semi-conscious for about eight hours, although her senses were a bit jumbled and undependable. Her adventures in the Destarion, furthermore, had done irreparable damage to her faith in her own ability to tell how much time was passing.

She was still bruised and battered, her limbs stiff with swelling and her ears tender with barely-begun healing, but everything seemed to work. The slightly damaged, muffled feel of her hearing that she experienced on awakening, in fact, was immediately attributable to some bandages that she was faintly relieved to find the humans had placed on her head.

Her jaw ached, the missing teeth a throbbing absence on one side. She’d thought there might have been some broken roots left but they had been extracted, presumably by the same people who had bandaged her ears so thoughtfully. The fingers of her lower left hand felt as though they were broken more severely than any other bones she could take easy stock of; she suspected that had happened when the plating had ripped from her hands on final descent. Her hand, too, was bandaged. Indeed, a considerable amount of her body was bandaged. Bandages seemed to be the go-to medical tool for humans. Probably because they bled so much and healed so slowly, if her courses and Lelhmak’s stories could be believed.

Some of the bandages revealed themselves to be wrapped around not just her, but the bed on which she was lying. She was strapped quite securely, although arguably this could have been to keep her from moving and exacerbating her injuries, or falling off the bed during what they had clearly assumed was slumber.

Arguably. If you were in the mood for a tragically over-optimistic argument.

Predericon raised her head as much as the bonds and her own tender muscles would allow. This was sufficient to establish that she was alone in a featureless cubicle of a room that was slightly longer than it was wide – or, from her perspective lying perpendicular in the centre of the chamber, wider than it was long. Bright lamps were inset in the ceiling, filling the room with harsh light. There was a door on the wall to her left, and the longer wall a couple of metres from her feet was dominated by a large mirror that she was certain was one-way. There was a sound of ventilation, monotonous and slightly haggard, and a high electric whine from the glowbulbs – or whatever the fixtures were.

She resisted the urge to call out hello? in English, even though it was the language she was certain she’d heard when she’d been picked up. Best to wait, see what the situation was. She’d used up all her optimism with the assumption about her medical strapping’s noble intent, so decided that she wouldn’t immediately give away that she could understand the language the humans were speaking these days.

Instead, she worked her jaw slowly and readied herself, then called out “hello?” in Xidh.

There was no immediate response, although she imagined there was a sudden increase in the activity and discussion taking place behind the mirror. She wondered if she was in a military base, a medical facility, or some sort of lab – perhaps even a private residence. She was unlikely to find out until-

The voice, when it came, was tinny and underlaid with scratches of interference. An extremely primitive comm system, then – but impressive, she supposed, considering the fact that these humans had apparently been forced to restart their technological development from practically nothing.

“Greetings,” it said. “I am […] Ansel Munroe of […] we wish to […] peaceful dialogue. Can you […] indicate understanding […].”

Predericon didn’t feel it was too much of a deception to claim she didn’t understand this, although she did get the gist of it. Even so, she responded in Xidh for the moment.

“Hello? I’m sorry, I do not understand … my name is Predericon Ti Akmet, I-”

“You do not speak English?” the voice crackled over the top of hers. “That is strange. Your […] Gyden told us that your English is even better than hers.”

Predericon sighed.


– Posted from my Huawei mobile phone while sitting in the carpark.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy. https://hatboy.blog/2013/12/17/metalude-who-are-creepy-and-hatboy/
This entry was posted in Astro Tramp 400, IACM, Oræl Rides To War, The Book of Pinian and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to 1,947, Part 7

  1. aaronthepatriot says:

    …releassssssssssse me. Now!

    Also, LOL and Lehlmak thinks Gyden is the bright one.

    • stchucky says:

      Hee, no he doesn’t! He goes easy on her because he’s her dad (which is far more insulting than him picking on her, but she doesn’t care), he’s always acknowledged Predericon as the actual scholar.

    • stchucky says:

      But thanks for reminding me, definitely have to find some way of slipping Independence Day references into this.

    • stchucky says:

      Just to clarify, from Fallen Angel Part 10:

      Lelhmak slammed his lower hands on the tabletop. “And if you think there’s a line between those two subjects, child, you’re not the student I took you for,” he snapped. “For once in your life, listen to your desperately boring friend.”

      Predericon and Gyden flicked brief, surprised glances at each other. Lelhmak’s surly criticisms and ire were usually reserved exclusively for Predericon, who – he made no secret of the fact – he considered the more promising long-term academy candidate while simultaneously harbouring forgivable sentimentality towards the younger researcher. For the elderly but brilliant phobe to so forget himself and address them in correspondence to his actual opinions, the severity of their situation was clearly far beyond what they’d suspected.

      • Ahh, and so you did make it clear. I can’t look back now (never look back!!!!) but I thought you did have Lehlmak giving the impression that Pred’s ideas were sub-par, on several occasions. The nature of his insults, I’m saying, could lead one to believe he thought Gyden the brighter one.

        But maybe I’m misremembering.

      • stchucky says:

        Only in the way I was pretty familiar with my university professors doing. Be more challenging and expect more of the bright students. Let the dim ones wait out the clock so nobody needs to get hurt. Anyway, the quote was right there.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s