Chapter 3

It had been another long day aboard the Merboran IV trying to translate human nonsense, conjecture, speculation, racism, classism, pollution, destruction, extinction, and downright barbarity into something that would not have the entire galactic community slapping even more restrictions on the Dunkar system. Despite his best efforts to always inject positive points about humans - including the many humanitarian efforts, charities, NGOs, advances in art, science, engineering, botany, computer science, culture and music and even simple acts of kindness - Carl was finding himself more and more frequently providing excuses for his species’ bad behavior ... and frankly, he was getting a bit tired of it.

It didn’t help that with the help of the Internet, nearly every bad thing that happened the world over was common knowledge to the entire planet (and to the aliens) sometimes within minutes of it happening. And the fact that humankind seemed to revel in making every seedy, dark and disgusting thing not just easy to find but hard to avoid – while you had to search for anything that resembled ‘good news’ – just made his job harder.

With a sigh, Carl shut down the holographic screens in front of him with a wave of his hand and after syncing his wrist holo, he shut that down as well and stretched back in his hover chair, arms stretching above him. He let out a little groan as various body parts, stiff from his second eight hour shift in his seat, popped, cracked or made other satisfying noises as he worked them through their full range of motion. Rubbing his face with his hands, he couldn’t help but shake his head. ‘What the hell is wrong with people ... and why can’t we figure out how to not be dicks to one another?’

Frustrated, Carl stood and waved to Pooz as he exited the Ferdan, completely ignoring the three eye stalks giving him the expected once over. She was genuinely interested in the Dunkarian male in a sexual way Carl had learned, but while he genuinely liked her as a friend, he was sure he was not ready for interspecies sex yet ... at least such an adventurous extreme as the Bromorian first officer represented. Carl had laughed when she had cornered him in the galley one vel and asked if they could discuss “this unspoken thing between us.” Quoting Guardians of the Galaxy proved to him that she was trying, and they had come to a mutual understanding that he wasn’t ready to be ‘Star Lord’ to her ‘Gamora.’ Wonderful thing about the galactic community was there was no need for HR and sensitivity, bias or sexual harassment training – two parties met, discussed and whatever was decided, if as in this case the propositioned party saying ‘no’, and that was it. Both parties acting like adults who respected one another and their opinions, wants and needs seemed so simple to Carl, pity it seemed to be a concept too far outside most human’s ability or more likely desire.

Walking the corridors toward the galley, Carl met the crew he passed with their traditional greetings without even thinking about it – bobbing his head at the bird-like Tenu propulsion technician, clicking his tongue while rapidly blinking his eyes and the furry tripodal Zarlowian xeno-ecologist and averting his eyes and pretending to flat out ignore the Bullmarite quartermaster. He went so far as to turn his upper torso toward the wall as he passed, and for very good reason.

Bullmarians as a species were loners and could only be found in the company of others of their species for two reasons, trading or procreating. Carl shuddered at the thought, for while of average intelligence as a species and very good at their jobs, that binary response to interactions bled over into their interactions with every other species. For example, if you greeted a Bullmarite and didn’t have business to conduct, they understood you wanted sex and would grab you and immediately begin. Considering they were giant worm-like creatures with mouths that were a combination of a toothy beak inside of a second multi-part toothy maw - similar to a deep sea polychaetes worms - they really made Jaba the Hut look cute and cuddly. Add to that the half dozen pale, spindly yet incredibly strong grabby arms that appeared from within its fatty folds, the sharp hook-like barb they had at the end of their enormous penis and their singular drive to put said phallus into whatever hole was available once ‘mating’ commenced – yeah ... they were an honest to god slithering nightmare. At least they weren’t slimy was about the only positive thought Carl could come up with as he passed by un-noticed and unacknowledged.

Sitting down at one of the multi-function eating stations – the device having scanned him once he put his food on the off-white polymorph surface and it automatically formed an appropriate sitting, perching, laying, leaning item or whatever your species needed – Carl looked around. While many made polite gestures, most did not interact with him as much as he’d like, and he knew it was because many of them had access to in-depth research and information on humans.

Over these last few months, he realized he got along better with those who were not directly involved with research specific to Dunkarians and either had ship-related jobs or their research focused on things like ecology, geology or xenobiology or xenobotany. They judged his ‘kind’ more by their interactions with him and though they also had the same negative pre-conceived notions – apparently humans were routinely portrayed as barbaric cavemen in galactic movies and holo-novels - they were less cautious and not as judgmental. While some were just interested in him because he was a ‘who-man’ novelty and they could boast to their relatives and friends about meeting one, he considered many to be friends.

Unfortunately, he could always tell from their reactions when a research colleague had shared more about humans than they knew from their interactions with him; it was often painfully clear in their faces - or body language for those who faces weren’t what to look at when trying to read physical cues. Carl had learned that each and every one of the human race’s deviations from accepted galactic norms impacted his standing in their eyes and apparently today was one of those days. Looking down, he briefly wondered what it could have been ... mass genocide, engineered virus, suicide cult, cannibalism, disputed election?

Quickly finishing his meal, he pushed the pod it had come in into the recycler and quietly departed the galley before he got approached and the questions began. When he first came aboard, he had willingly answered all of their questions and had worked hard to overcome the negative preconceptions and faulty interpretations of human behavior, excited to be meeting so many new races. But as the months wore on and humanity continued to offer up damning evidence at an alarming rate, he began to realize he was fighting an uphill battle. At this point, he had mostly given up, having resolved to have them judge him as an individual and educate them through his actions. While he wouldn’t avoid questions and would do his best to answer, he made sure not to put himself into a position where a group Q&A could form.

Tired, but not wanting to turn in yet, Carl swiped open his holo and searched for the location of Drallix. After a moment to research where waste recycling unit Zacha was, he followed one ramp down and made his way to the Outboard 4-1-90 section of the ship following the inner ring passageway on this level.

While the Galactic UN noted spatial awareness on three axes as humans did, a circle was not divided into an odd number of degrees, but rather a nice round number of increments - 100. Since there were no external thrusters or engines in the saucer shaped survey class scout vessel, there really was not a ‘rear’ of the ship ... but because the sections between 40 and 60 were primarily dedicated to less ‘prestigious’ functionality like waste management, it was definitely the ‘back’ of the bus. It took a while, but he learned that a great example of the ‘high regard’ Captain Armoniel held him in was where he was berthed in relation to the most important part of this ship – the Ferdan. Nearly at the top of the ship and at the rear on the outboard side of the second ring hallway on the second level of the ship, Outboard 2-1-50 was located almost as far away from the Ferdan at the center of deck 3 as he could be without being outside of the ship’s main shielding. In contrast, the Captain’s quarters were Outboard 3-1-00, literally across the central loop from the Ferdan toward the ‘front’ of the vessel. The commissary was Inboard 3-2-15 ... on the inside of the second of the three passageways that circled the Ferdan like perfectly round orbits around a sun and on the right-hand side of the ship. The med-bay was Inboard 3-2-90, close to the center but just a bit forward and on the left.

The hatch at Outboard 4-1-90 did not open when he stopped in front of it, so Carl waved his hand over the panel beside it and to his chagrin, nothing happened. Not really surprised that it hadn’t worked as many areas of the ship we only accessible to authorized members of the crew – and he certainly wasn’t authorized for much - Carl swiped open his wrist holo and sent a quick message to Drallix, letting him know he was just outside the door. Fully expecting either the door to open or a response to appear on his holo, Carl was focused on his wrist as he stepped toward the door to give more room to a Sycurian navigating the corridor with a huge metallic, hovering device obediently trailing behind it like a puppy on an invisible leash.

Glancing after the load, Carl raised his arm and looked at it through the holographic interface which appeared above the device on his wrist and was promptly informed that it was a DAT-2, a class two matter inverter. ‘Okay, that doesn’t explain much,’ he thought. Curious he flicked further into the description with a gesture and discovered it was a device that would break the molecular bonds of most anything going in and sort and store all the material in their most basic elemental forms. Based upon the information he was reading, this device was most frequently combined with a variety of manufacturing devices or even a fusion generator that could power an interstellar FTL drive. Apparently, it could also be configured in one of its most popular pairings, with a recombination device most commonly found in galleys and restaurants in areas where fresh ingredients were hard to come by.

Looking up with surprise, Carl realized he had been reading for a tenth of a din (nearly ten minutes) with still no response from Drallix. Deciding to go the ‘primitive’ route, Cal knocked ... loudly. Within moments the portal spiraled open and Carl stepped into the darkened room and was immediately struck by two things – the smell and the shimmering transparent blue wall that isolated where he stood from the rest of the chamber.

“Don’t step furzer Carl! And vatever you do, do NOT cross zhe containment field,” came Drallix’s voice from somewhere in the maze of pipes that crisscrossed the space, above which hovered a web of what looked like laser beams and wires sprouting from the walls like it was the inside of an old 1960’s game of Kerplunk.

Seeing numerous openings in the ceiling some three meters above with what looked like all sorts of materials dropping out of them before being trapped in the web ... well mostly trapped ... he realized his analogy was even more appropriate. But something was not right as the... ‘Oh god is that shit and piss?’ Carl realized with a shudder as the multi-colored material rained down uncontrolled as sections of the web blinked in and out of existence. ‘Something must also be wrong under the web as well’ Carl thought, taking an involuntary step back. All the liquid and chunks were most definitely not going into the numerous openings of the field of pipes below the grid into which Carl assumed everything was supposed to flow. At that moment, he saw the disturbing sight of his Cretelian friend’s compressed and elongated body squeezing out from between several far too close together pipes before taking on his normal shape with an odd looking shudder.

“Vere is zhat damned ... zhat damned Sycurian moron?’ his feces covered friend muttered, flipping open his own wrist holo and busily swiping open different controls, tweaking them and moving to the next. “And vhy von’t zhese stupid feed lines close? Can’t zhe system tell zhere is a failure?” Harshly slapping him holo closed, the Cretelian growled and leaped straight up. To Carl’s surprise, Drallix not only easily reached the ceiling with his jump, but also managed to brace himself in the corner before beginning to manually close each pipe, crawling from one to the next on the ceiling like a bat.

Looking on in awe, Carl shook himself out of his momentary surprise. “Hey, I saw a Sycurian pass by a little while ago hauling a DAT-2. Is that what you are waiting for?”

Not even pausing in his mad scramble across the ceiling, Drallix shut down another pipe and continued to the next. “Yes. Vould you go and get that scaniking moron back here? I need zhat dam converter!”

Nodding, Carl turned, walked through the opening hatch and nearly collided with the offending party, who was slowly walking while looking at his holo with a puzzled look on his face. “In here,” Carl motioned, waving to get the Sycurian’s attention. He was coming from the exact same direction as the last time he had passed and must have made a lap of the entire ring passage. “New to the ship?” Carl quipped while delivering his most solicitous and courteous gesture for the creature to precede him through the hatch. The blank stare he got in return said it all. Carl’s estimation that humans were in fact not the least intelligent species in the spacefaring galaxy were confirmed. ‘Thank the lord for small victories’ he thought, happy that at least something was going in humankind’s favor today.

Following the big alien and the huge metal unit into the room, there was not a lot of room anymore on the portal side of the containment field keeping the fetid, multi-colored mess from spilling into the corridor. Carl looked up just in time to see Drallix seal the last pipe and drop from the ceiling, easily dodging both wires and lasers alike. Landing like a cat, the Cretelian fixed the hapless Sycurian with a look that would have frozen a charging bull elephant in its tracks and slowly stalked forward.

Now, Sycurians were not physically unimpressive beings themselves. They were, in fact, quite imposing creatures with a bipedal frame and one large eye on its rather large humanoid face. With a heavy mono-brow and lips that would make the Real Housewives of whatever city insanely jealous, the only thing that didn’t match the human Cyclops legend was their size. While large, the average male of the species stood nearly nine feet tall and weighed over 500 pounds, they were not giants and at this moment, this one was definitely looking more scared than scary.

Passing through the containment field Drallix continued his advance on the big Sycurian technician, who kept backing up, which made the hover unit back up as well until it hit the bulkhead and the cyclops hit it. Seeing such a large creature fearfully backing up from such a small and thin one was like a bizarro-world version of National Geographic where a tiny naked mole rat intimidates a viper and backs it all the way out of its burrow. While the sight impressed Carl, what really caught his eye was that Drallix was clean! The containment field must have some way of knowing what was allowed to pass through it and all that crap wasn’t on the list! Man could he make a fortune selling that as a shower or bath replacement ... just jump about of bed, get dressed and pass through the field and presto, super clean Carl and clean clothes to boot!

Drallix’s body seemed to stretch taller as he invaded the cyclops’ personal space and Carl could swear his friend’s teeth grew longer. “I’ve been vaiting for over half a din for zhis unit! Vhere in glabnar have you been?”

“The requi ... requisi ... the order form said...” the clearly frightened creature stammered as it tried to raise its left arm to open its hollow but the Cretellian’s body was blocking it. Carl stifled a chuckle when Drallix shot him a quick glance, winked as his eyes turned red and then once again turned back to fix his hapless victim. The poor sap began to shake and looked like he was moments from pissing himself when Drallix stepped to the side and instantly looked as he normally did.

“Get zhat unit in zhere and hooked up in the next half a din or I vill zhrottle you vizhin a microd of your life!” Drallix turned to Carl with a smile before looking back over his shoulder at the still stationary technician and hollered “NOW!”