Humble Beginnings

Thirst-2

“Sure thing, Boi. I can use some rest as well. It is getting close to our sleep rotation.” Phanboi looked like a deflated balloon, his four limbs spread eagle, anxious to shed some body heat on the frosty floor. Station time was measured by rotations of the Zero Section. One rotation equaled approximately eight old-earth hours, making for a thirty-two-hour day. To limit the stress on environmental systems, life was broken into four shifts. Not that everyone worked, but the rotated sleep-wake cycles helped regulate the needed services.

Hastily scanning the area, R.O. found a fractional distillation tower. Motioning towards it, she said, “That will give us some warmth.”

The station used the natural separation powers of the differences in gravity to help separate the waste products through fractional distillation. Heat added to different pressures would cause specific molecules to gas-off. They would then be sucked off for later uses. R.O., educated on the theory but no expert, had always been more interested in water and the treasures it might unleash.

She dragged herself up onto a scaffolding next to the heating source, offering a hand down to Boi. “Here, we can rest here and not freeze to death.”

Freezing to death became a real possibility on the fifth deck, rarely heated much above the freezing point of water. If not for the risk of fluids freezing, the temperature would be allowed to drop even further. Few workers were needed on the fifth deck. Most of the equipment was remotely controlled, and if more hands-on activity became necessary, proxy-units would be used for extended work cycles.

“We could’ve planned this walkabout better.” R.O. collapsed on the gantry surrounding the tower.

“Yes, I would have shaved,” Phanboi said as he tried to hang from the safety railings, finding the position impossible due to the gravity. “I want to go higher. I can’t take this weight much longer.”

“Let me get some rest. I need a break before I do any heavy thinking.” R.O. laid her back on the expanded diamond deck, letting her clothes dry from the rising heated air surrounding the tower. Closing her eyes and relaxing, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

She awoke sometime later, the pain of an injection the only signal of the horrors about to come.

It took a moment for her to decide she wasn’t dead. However, she wasn’t able to focus her eyes. She laid on something softer than the deck of the distillation plant, and she couldn’t decide how she had moved. Her eyes were open, her body still unresponsive. She did find comfort from the ubiquitous sounds of the engineering deck. She felt the ever-present hum and vibrations of pumps and other machinery keeping the station alive.

Taking inventory of the senses still available to her, she sensed warmth. She was lying on her back on something much softer than diamond deck, looking up at what must be a ceiling, the brighter section a light. Was that breathing she heard? She perceived something, or someone, closed what sounded like a book, clearing its throat before continuing with an impossibly thick rattling voice.

“I can tell by your breathing you are awake. Please try to relax. You have been poisoned by something extremely deadly. You must sleep to let the venom leave your body.” The sounds of his movement—it sounded like a him—reached her ears, then she saw the light from the ceiling blotted out by a ruddy-colored mass before her eyes.

“I stopped the bleeding and stitched you up. Not sure what you did to find yourself on the wrong side of a Yeu Tinh, but I had to chase one off when I found you. It cut you bad.” The mass moved away from her field of vision. “Sleep now, we can talk… when you are able to.” She noted the creature sitting back down, the chair protesting with a creak from his mass.

The best she could do was think. What was a Yeu Tinh doing on the station? Most races recoil from some other species. They would rather not mingle with them, if not displaying outright hatred. For most of the known universe, that shunned species had always been the Yeu Tinh. Branded as the backstabbers of space, they would do anything for money. Skin the color of putrid flesh, smelling about the same, they plied the depths of space as scavengers, pirates, mercenaries, or worse. She fell asleep thinking: There was no honor among the Yeu Tinh.

R.O. regained control of her body while sleeping. In the beginning, she closed her eyes. Next, she swallowed and coughed, clearing the crud that had built up in her throat. The muscles of her body protested from lying in the same position for so long. She eventually was able to roll over in her sleep.

She opened her eyes, but no matter how many times she blinked them, she made out only light and dark shapes. She groaned faintly while rubbing her eyes, trying to get them to clear. She felt as if she had been drinking for a month straight, with the hangover to prove it.

“I am glad to see you are awake. Do not rub your eyes too much, or you will cause damage.” The deep voice spoke gently to her from the blur of the room.

R.O. struggled to the back side of the bedding she lay on until stopped by the wall. “Who are you? I can’t see you,” she croaked in a weak voice, trying it out for the first time. She observed as the dark shape across the room moved. It was huge, filling half the small space they were in.

“I was afraid of that. You will be suffering some blindness, possibly memory loss, and hearing problems for an indefinite period or until we can get you some proper medical treatment,” the dark hulking mass said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?” she asked with a stronger voice.

“Not that it makes any difference, but people around here call me Tomm. I think they mean it as a joke. I ignore it.” The bass voice had a hint of sadness in it.

For the first time, R.O. realized she wasn’t picking up his voice translated into her brain. Her ears were listening. “You speak Human. Are you Human?” she asked.

“I would say in my heart I am. But what is in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. If you are asking what race I was born, I am Strobertzy. One of the walking giants, I think is one of the less-offensive slang terms for us,” Tomm said.

Not all the races of Far Reach Station were interstellar travelers. Many came into space as vagabonds, hitchhikers, or laborers to the primary races. Some became so prolific in the cosmos, they developed into minor space traveling races, if still not capable of building their own ships. They would purchase them as they could. Some would outright steal them if the chance arose.

Unlike the Nof-Tro, which came from a light gravity world and came to space as low gravity workers, the Strobertzy came from a harsh, high gravity world. Their strength made them perfect for robust and cheap labor. Their size and strength earned them a reputation for being slow and dimwitted. On the other hand, the Nof-Tro were considered agile, fleet, and at times, downright sneaky.

R.O. had never taken the time to meet a Strobertzy. They didn’t travel in the same circles. His previous statement sank in. “Why will I be blind… What did you do?”

“I told you before, I found a Yeu Tinh removing your implants. I had to chase it off you. I think it would have left you for dead if it had not decided to kill you outright. It, no doubt, presumed you would not survive the poison. Had I not found you, you probably would have died on that distillation plant.”

“They took my implants? What of Phanboi? I was with my friend. Did you find a Nof-Tro near me?”

“There was no sign of another but you. I am sorry, your friend must have abandoned you.”

“No, you must be mistaken! I don’t think you looked hard enough. He must still be there hurt. We’ve got to go look for him.” Frantic, she tried to get up, but her body would not obey her commands, so she collapsed onto her back.

Tomm let her try to raise herself to a sitting position before commenting on her condition. “You are much too weak. If you insist, I will go search the area again, but I assure you no one else was there.”

R.O. thought a moment before answering, “You’ve done so much for me. Could you please go search for Phanboi one more time? He helped me find so much of the information against the Saravipians. If they wanted me dead, they surely wanted him dead as well.”

“I will do as you ask, but please, for your safety, do not try to move. It was only five cycles ago someone cut into your brain.”

She scrutinized the dark mass as he padded out of the room. On her side, she inventoried what she made out with her blurry vision and the few senses available to her. The space had an echo to it, metal walls for sure, but the floor had some sort of covering, deadening footfalls. She found herself sure the room was located on the fifth deck. She felt the vibrations of machinery even though she lay on some sort of soft sleeping pallet. Warmth, she felt a heat source in the space, the heat radiating from the glow made the room almost cozy. Through her blurred vision, she made out various colors across the room, though she wasn’t sure what was there. She drifted off to sleep waiting for Tomm’s return.

“I am sorry, I searched the entire area. I found no signs of anyone in the area I found you in. Your blood had been removed, the cleaning mechs had come through the area.” The deep voice spoke calmly, a matter of fact in its tone. It still startled her awake.

“You said your name is Tomm, right? I need you to call…” She stopped, not sure who she should trust to call. The powers that be might employ any number of informants in the peacekeepers, if not bought and paid for officers. She might make a massive mistake if anyone was looking for her.

Tomm regarded her as R.O. contemplated the choices, giving her time to come to her own conclusions. Patiently, he stood for some moments, waiting for her to plan, before he stepped closer. “While you think, these might help you see a little better.” He handed her a bent metal frame containing two glass lenses, homemade eyeglasses.

Unsure what to do with them, R.O. held them in her hand before Tomm finished the gesture.

“Allow me.” He took them from her hand. Opening them, he placed them over her ears, the bridge of the glasses sitting on her nose. She could see better. Not flawlessly like she did with her implants, but well enough to make out the giant’s face.

“Ummm, thank you.” More embarrassed by her helplessness than shocked by the size of Tomm’s head, which measured about twice that of a Human’s head. He had his own pair of glasses perched on his nose.

He stepped back, the stride took him to his rocking chair, where he sat. Placing his hand on the book by his side, he began thrumming his fingers, waiting. “Who would you like me to call?” he asked, letting her continue her line of thinking.

She developed an uneasy feeling, unsure who she should or could trust. “I am not sure what I should do.”

“It seems someone wanted you gone, or at least your memories. Gone enough to hire a goblin.” Tomm said.