Dead Star Dockyards

Diana was slightly irritated over the fact that Donovan didn't have any 'nice' clothes.

He had a dress uniform, sure, but it wasn't something she could justify having him wear. It seemed TOO formal for the occasion. Right now his shirt and pants were the best options in his wardrobe, if only because the colors matched.

Diana seriously had no idea how none of his other clothes at least gave him a presentable appearance. Apparently, the military academy preferred he wore his flight suit or dress uniform.

For some reason he brought sunglasses with him. Into space. Where he would be living in a metal box with mild lighting, away from the sun. She wasn't going to ask or complain on this matter though, they would help lessen the blow to his eyes. She knew concussions were not to be trifled with.

"Wwwooooowww." Donovan was finally able to see the Oberlux with a degree of clarity.

It was beautiful.

The images he had seen from a distance did not do it justice in any way. It was huge, the branches spanning off into the distance where the ends of the offshoots disappeared into the black void of space.

Below the elevator, a flat, polished wood floor spanned out as far as he could see. The rings exposed by the cut gave the illusion of infinitely long planks.

The sky beyond the twigs was a rainbow of colored lines on a dark background, the occasional impact making vibrant white sparkles. Those hazards he had only seen as a danger before were quite beautiful when they didn't pose a threat.

The purple geometry he had borne witness too before was now the same shade of Diana's eyes with its edges being a bit less defined. Don wanted to take a picture of it all, but that would violate one of the rules Diana set.

"My previous vantage point didn't do this ship justice, this is amazing. Am I still dreaming?"

"I understand your awe but please maintain a modicum of composure." Diana tugged his arm to get him off the elevator. "Now where might I find a crew member . . . will they understand who I'm looking for?"

Diana scanned the deck for someone to help them while Don kept his eyes on the light show, careful to keep his jaw from dropping.

The deck was, to Diana's dismay, ridiculously long. ARC estimated the volume enclosed by the branches to be close to that of the moon, translating to lengthy span of trunk that the deck was carved from.

The occasional branch protruded from the deck, blocking her line of sight in some areas, but she saw no reason for someone to be standing in those blind spots.

Given the fact they were in combat, there was likely no reason for them to be away from their station. The problem was that she had no clue where these stations were.

"Let's head inside Donovan, back to the ward. I don't see anyone out here."

This was Don's first time walking through the halls of luxury, and Diana was praying that he wouldn't be overwhelmed by the sights. Contrary to expectations, he was not nearly as responsive to this sight as the limited grandeur outside.

"What do you think this thing is made of? It looks kinda funky."

'Funky' was not a word Diana expected to ever hear someone describe something as expensive as wood. He clearly had no eye for luxury, though her previous experience with his wardrobe should have warned her of this. That being said it wasn't a bad trait, it would prevent him from being bribed to some degree, but his blunt and frankly uninformed analysis might lead to some indignation. A description of the Great Csillacra that could be construed as disrespectful was unacceptable.

"It's made of wood. I understand it is a branch of a super massive sentient tree known as the Great Csillacra. It is something of a religious icon to these people, so I beg you to be careful when talking about it."

"A massive tree? How fucking big would it have to be to have a branch this big."

"Don, respect. Did you miss that part?"

"Yeah but I'm still wondering how big that tree is."

"Don't call it a tree. It has a name. I really don't want to draw their ire." She felt lucky there was nobody nearby. The majority of them might not be able to understand them, but they might get an idea. "I'd think somewhere around the size of a planet." Diana decided to answer his question to prevent further inquiries.

The ward was empty, but the bed Don was confined to was made neat. On top of the pillow lay a piece of paper, one side having a crudely written message. The Scholar had yet to learn the proper stroke order for the written alphabet, but the shapes were similar.

'Diana, it brings joy to me that your Dahnovan has recovered to be able to move. You are encouraged to join us on BRIDGE. On the back of this is a rough map. Follow the line to reach us.'

The grammar wasn't great by any metric, but it was passable enough to get the point across.

Sure enough, the back of the sheet had a crudely drawn map. A set of directions on when to turn were included referencing 'notable works of art' as landmarks to turn around. They mostly consisted of the object's noun and what color it was. For example, the first turn to the left by a turquoise amulet.

Donovan found himself more annoyed by these hallways than amazed. Beyond that initial entrance and turn to the ward, they were not straight. Slight curves left and right as well as intersections at odd angles, ran contrary to his learnings of ship design. Trying to follow Diana's advice, he rationalized this as being a peculiarity of carving a ship from a tree.

He didn't know much about how trees formed or grew, but since they were not intended for use as weapons they probably had irregularities and the like that would make it difficult to carve through certain sections.

The directions led them to a staircase going up, obviously they would have to climb.

The question was how far.

Neither Diana nor Donovan had been diligent in their cardio as of late...

- - - - -

Their presence was announced by slightly heavier than normal breathing. Diana was fine for the most part. There was a little sweat on her brow, but it was still within the limits she could handle without gasping.

Donovan had some problems.

Not only had he spent months in a confined space, where his leg muscles were left to atrophy, he was still recovering from his body literally decaying. The fact his endurance was high enough to last this long was a miracle.

He promptly collapsed on the floor, hands behind his head, trying to get oxygen into his lungs.

"Hooooly stairs." He took a few deep breaths between words. "Water."

The Captain moved to greet them. "Welcome to the Bridge, Diana. I trust Donovan is not in any immediate danger?" He was showing concern for the body on the floor.

"He will be fine. He just needs rest. If you have it, could you bring him some water?"

"Would you not prefer he had something more refreshing? Perhaps some fruit juice or an leaf infused beverage?"

"While I am sure he would enjoy such a thing, right now he would like water. If you could provide it cold that would be ideal."

"As you wish." He called out to a small creature situated along one of the walls, which scampered over on all fours.

When it stood on its hind legs at the Captain's feet, the tips of its long ears only reached up to Diana's waist. Its fur was a chestnut brown, with a vanilla underbelly. Its fluffy tail stuck out at a 45 degree angle, with a medley of browns, tans, and grays made up the slim rings along its length.

Diana found it incredibly cute. If she had to describe it, it was a mix of a squirrel, raccoon, and fox.

It turned its large eyes up to meet the Captain's, waiting patiently for orders.

"Please retrieve a jug of water and two cups from the kitchen. It is not urgent, but I would like you to hurry."

The tail puffed and a small squeak rose from its mouth. In the same way the words of the Captain and Scholar translated in her head, the squeak transformed into an affirmative.

Interestingly, there was no word attached to this, only the vague understanding that this was indeed a signal of an affirmative.

Before it left, it took a moment to analyze both Diana and Donovan, the newcomers.

Where before it's reaction was a puff of the tail, this time its tail quivered and the ears flickered. It jittered and shook for a few seconds before a similarly translated feeling came through.

'Standing one shiny/pretty/elegant. Laying one bright/elevated/powerful.'

The speed at which it darted down the staircase surpassed Diana's expectations. "What is it?"

"The Courier? He belongs to a race known as the Skwiven. For how useful they can be, they are equally a pain. While they are well suited to courier work, climbing, and farming, there is really no single thing they do better than another. It is quite unfortunate, but due to how dull they are, the difficulty with communicating with them, and how rapidly they tend to multiply, most peoples view them as pests."

The Captain sighed at their situation, displeased. He knew there was nothing he could do about it, with how little they brought to the table it was unsurprising most governments and races would view them as 'useless'.

"Please disregard what he said should it have been construed as an insult. Know he had no intent of such. I'm sure you noticed, but they do not actually speak as we do, so what exactly it is they are saying can be difficult to interpret."

"Trust I took no offense, but what did you think it meant by 'shiny' and 'bright'? I could understand the 'shiny' assessment of me due to my hair, but why would it label Don as 'bright'?"

The Scholar answered Diana's question.

"It is said that the Skwiven can see something more than we can, often describing an otherwise blank sheet of canvas as a beautiful work of art. They also show a great degree of social attraction towards these things they consider beautiful."

"Hmmm. As much I would like to learn more about them, courtesy comes first. Donovan, can you stand and introduce yourself?"

"Gimme a minute."

The Scholar pulled out the tablet and typed something in.

"Is he asking for time?"

"Not literally. He would just like you to wait until he has recovered his breath. I apologize if that sounded rude." She had to be careful with their figures of speech.

"We took no offense, but there are a few parties in the community that may take issue with the nonchalant request towards time." The Scholar voiced some concern. He was extremely interested in how English worked and had come to understand how easy it was for misunderstandings to arise.

"I will try to keep that in mind."

"You won't have to." The Captain interjected. "When you learn to speak as we do it will become impossible for such misunderstandings to occur. Intent is what is primarily conveyed. For example, some words don't translate perfectly. Euphoria, for example, is a phenomenon we know you have no concept of, but a word closest to it and the intent behind it manifested itself."

"True. That is why the Skwiven are very difficult to communicate with." The Scholar followed the Captain's explanation. "They may have intent, but due to their reliance on body language and their relative stupidity, words don't exist. They seem to communicate more through description, they even lack names."

A shrill clinking from the stairs marked the Skwiven's return. The pitcher was held tightly in its hands, and the cups were held by a string around its neck.

Standing at Diana's feet, it offered the pitcher to her. Once she took it of its hands, it worked to untie the cups from its necklace-like harness. Obviously, this mechanism served to increase its carrying capacity while not inhibiting movement too much.

"Thank you, Courier. Donovan, here's some water."

He was up now, his hands still behind his head.

"Thanks." He took the cup of water and drained it a few gulps. Following this, he bent down and rubbed the Skwiven on the head. "You're a life-saver!"