Lucky to Be Alive
Posted on Sun Oct 17th, 2021 @ 7:04pm by Lieutenant Timmoz
Mission:
The Place of Skulls
Location: Kaphrene Depot; Interstellar Trade Alliance
Timeline: Mission Day 35 at 0300
[Infirmary; Orange Zone]
[Kaphrene Trade Depot]
[Kaphrene Ice Belt; Interstellar Trade Alliance Space]
"We don't get a lot of his kind around here." There was a weary sigh from a voice that was resonant, almost metallic, and deep, "When did he come deckside?"
Another voice- which was adenoidal and feminine, answered with a cautious air. They spoke around a sharp c-note, medical tone, "He's lost a lot of blood. Fortunately, with hemo-chemical resequencing, we used Vulcanoid type I-negative with a Qa-protein immunosuppressant." They shifted with a rustle of fabric, "I can have hospitality management run through the manifest logs."
"It was more idle curiosity," the resonant voice replied.
"Since you're just curious," a weak voice said. Tired, bruised eyes opened green eyelids, "About a week." Timmoz felt the tepid metal against his nude backside, his torso stiff around his gut. "Visceral amino-sutures and myo-scaffolds... I haven't felt those in a while," Timmoz remarked. The Orion, sighed- which hurt. His dark eyes flinched shut and open. Timmoz issued a soft grunt- and stifled it with a reminder of who he is. Or who he was.
"You gave us the when," the guttural-resonant voice produced itself. "Now. Humor me. Why?" The being who settled next to Timmoz was Berellian. He was almost as wide as tall. Sunken, kind, old blue eyes surrounded in leathery skin with darker skin tag moles eyed the young Orion. Timmoz studied his alien face. On Earth, Timmoz had seen a reptile race that reminded him a little of the being- a horned toad. He had rows of angled, thorn-like spines around the ovoid swoops around his eyes. He had a broad, wide, flattened nose and under them, a very wide mouth with thick, stiff lips. More of those spines made up the man's chin.
Something about him seemed as full of ennui as an Orion's soul but more patient.
"Why what?" Timmoz asked with a swallow in his long, lime throat.
"You picked a fight with a Markalian and a set of Miradorn twins," the Doctor said bluntly, patiently his deep eyes blinked two sets of eyelids while he nodded. When they refocused on the slender Orion in the prone position, Timmoz's eyes skirted away. At first the Doctor seemed to think it was doubt or confusion. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
Timmoz raised a brow, his curly, bedhead-haired head shaking against the pillow, "No." He blinked at the last moment. No. He remembered everything.
[Guest's Sector; Silver Zone]
[Kaphrene Trade Depot]
[Kaphrene Ice Belt; Interstellar Trade Alliance Space]
The beep was shrill, the device scanned over Timmoz's forehead. That would have been fine to the Orion, if they'd taken place separately. He winced as the sound seemed to really resonate in his ears. He stuck a finger in his ear hole and wiggled until he felt a pop. "That looks like a normal temperature range for an Orion." A very gregarious-looking Gallamite grinned too-widely at Timmoz. The smile reminded him of a Denobulan- as did their character.
Timmoz's return smile was a quick flash.
"And what is your name, Traveler?" Timmoz had glimpsed a quick shot when the Gallamite turned profile. Sumeme help us, one really could see their brains. A transparent skill. It was like half their skull, enlarged and elongated like a wedge that it was, was a half jellyfish and a half... rhinoceros. The Gallamite looked back. Timmoz skirted his gaze to his bony chin and the veiny lines on either side of it. All Timmoz knew was... it was the Gallamite equivalent of Ferengi ears.
"Timmoz," Timmoz said with a smoky utterance.
"Tamoss," the Gallamite mispronounced. A rainbow, sheen of the rear of his clear skull gave a glimpse of the gray matter within, pulsing with dark blue blood. Gallamite brains were strange that way- their brains and organs were more insectoid-like. They didn't have circulatory systems in their guts. Their guts were chambered and "bathed" in blood. "And what's your surname Traveler? Your legal second?" When Timmoz hesitated, even looked troubled, the Gallamite smiled and blinked, "Who are your family, your clan?"
Timmoz shook his head after a moment and a long, tested blink, "It's just Timmoz." He folded arms defensively over his bare chest. Under his arms, he trapped a set of copper, braided necklaces and restrained a loose, black leather vest.
The Gallamite puzzled, his thin, stiff lips pursing and plastically hypermobile, they bent into a frown facsimile. "I see, Traveler. Very well, Tamoss it is. Tamoss what is your business on Kaphrene Trade Depot?"
Timmoz's brows rose, either pleased that they'd moved on or else patient, "Work. To find work."
The Gallamite's wrinkled brows brightened upwards, "Ah! Excellent. The Intergalactic Trade Alliance is always looking for skilled workers in the departments of logistics, piloting, and engineering. Of course, if you have culinary skills you would want to speak to the Bureau of Food Resources," with a flurry, holographic began to appear before Timmoz and the Gallamite. The Gallamite's fingers gestured, cycling through various alien languages with a swoopy, circle-based script. Timmoz saw flashes of emblems, icons, and wayfinding route lines. "... On the other hand, if you would prefer sex work, you would want to speak with the Bureau of Intimate Exchange..." Gallamite had kept going while Timmoz stifled a rollback of his eyes. "It is a heavily regulated bureau that-"
"I'm... alright. Thank you. I'm not looking for that kind of work at this time," Timmoz said patiently. He swept at the hologram with anatomical medical diagrams and route indicators to an ITA-sponsored clinic. The hologram minimized itself out of view.
"Of course," the Gallamite smiled that over-gregarious bend upwards. "Please, enjoy your time on Kaphrene Trade Depot, Traveler Tamoss." The Gallamite stepped sideways, arms behind his back, to let Timmoz proceed. "Do not forget to purchase your medical, wrongful death, and legal representation insurance, of course." He called back to Timmoz while the lanky Orion passed an octagonal archway.
"I'll be fine, thank you," Timmoz said back to the Gallamite.
"I'm fine..." Timmoz said with a weak smile.
"You don't sound- or look- very sure," the Berellian sighed a resonant, purr-like sound through his rifled throat. "I'm over 300 cycles old, child. I know how to spot a lie. I think you know. Try again."
Timmoz stiffly moved. He rolled his head with a wince and raised up on his elbows. But he found- with an invisible press- that he couldn't move much more. "When can I get out of here."
The Berellian's leathery-inflexible, plump mouth issued a resonant grunt that smelt of some kind of masticated root vegetation, "You can't leave until I can tell the Kaphrene Depot Quorum of Investigations that you don't have anything they need to know about the murder down on Saffros-Alien Sector. So. I ask again. What happened?"
Timmoz sighed. His eyes rolled to the cluster of lights and medical sensors above him. The offbeat medical bongs of his heart rate being monitored were in his ears. "It's a long story..."
"I'm over 300 cycles old, child. I know long." The Doctor retorted.
Timmoz glanced at the Berellian and away, and back again. He grunted. "I came to track someone down..."
The Berellian leaned close and rested on his two-fingered, two-thumbed hand. He rolled them under his chinless jowl, unbothered by the rigid spines there, "Go on.."
... To be Continued...
A Post By
Lieutenant Timmoz
Adrift and On Leave
