THE GOTTALA XES THER

[capemods]

WHO: ImPorts.
WHERE: Gottala Xes Ther of TíraFórsae.
WHEN: April 21st 2013 noon to April 25th 11:59 PM.
WARNINGS: Possible violence, gore. Possible invasion of privacy.
SUMMARY: Off-world adventure on EARTH KLADSUO834LKSFDLKJ8718=LAJD
FORMAT: Whatever.



[It translates roughly into the "storm lover", something you might pick up on if you're exposed to lower cant. And that's a fairly accurate description of this Gottala: the Xes Ther is smaller and swifter than your average city-ship, keeping never more than 374 individuals aboard. Its housing is clean but minimalistic, its gardens have no decorative value: only essential nutrients are grown. There is a heavier reliance on fishing upon this Gottala, and no sight of field-fed livestock that is common on others. No beef, no poultry, no pork.

Just fish.

And sprawls of laboratories.

Laboratories that connect like honeycombs: they octagon sprawl into each other, forming larger segments of the same structure. And in these labs? Storms are made. Or, more precisely: the effects of weather patterns are mimicked and induced. Xes Ther is a craftsman city-ship, and all of its members contribute to creating, controlling and selling weather-born energy.]

Comments

DAY 2

[capemods]

["Empoortah." You might overhear one Tirisean say, if you're lurking through one of the pristine containment buildings that they've set you in -- for your own safety, of course.

"Fhegi, Im~Port," says another. The word is clumsy in his mouth, like a series of unshapely teeth. But he's trying.

"Ftee’baich’feeuh~ftee’dai’bem’feeuh’dess’ftee’barr’feeuh’eaye’bem~dai’dess~bsea’eyew’ftee~eaye’bsea’barr’foo’dess’dess," he continues.

"Baich’foo’bdubya?”

“Gvee’eyew’gell’bsea’eaye’dehn’eyew’dess,” he replies. His tone lingers darkly, like a smog in his throat.

“Eaye~bem’fwhy’ftee’baich!”

"Fhegi," he concludes, shaking his head. "Fhegi."

They pause their conversation. You think perhaps they've heard you. With all their syringes and electrical gear, you might begin to worry what would happen if they found you...]

Open

[heal_or_execute]

Mordin listens intently to his captors, trying to make some sense of what they're saying. His genius does not unfortunately extend to linguistics, although he's already been able to deduce a few words- 'Fhegi' for instance appears to mean 'no.' His brilliance and natural Salarian memory are not wasted here, though. Mordin memorizes every syllable he hears from the Tiriseans, and will be able to reproduce it later for anyone who does know what this means. It definitely sounds important.

Despite the pleasure of indulging his curiosity, Mordin is not happy right now. There doesn't appear to be any amphibian solidarity forthcoming from these sentients, despite their resemblance to Salarians in some respects. All his attempts to communicate have failed. It's unfortunate, since he has a few choice words for them about their conception of scientific ethics and probing techniques. What's worse is that the little he's seen of the energy research aboard this vessel has been fascinating, and they won't let him get a closer look at it!

All in all, Mordin is now sorrier than ever that he missed out on Metricog. At least the people there were friendly, from what he heard.

[hackeralastair]

The decontamination building was easy to slip into, Alastair managed to get in without being probed so long as he assured anyone he ran into that "someone else" had already scrubbed him down. Coming into contact with so many of the natives had his mind almost permanently geared into their language, and he spit it back at them effortlessly - something that surprised them, but at least he could communicate. And convince them that Bob in Sector Seven totally already decontaminated him, there was no need for another round.

Once free from molestation, he made himself scarce, hunting around the building looking for food, money, anything. He was ten years old again, scavenging to meet his needs, a refugee in a strange world this time. As he checked around a door jamb, he noticed someone that didn't look like the locals - or a human for that matter. But he was vaguely aware that they still had aliens lurking around the Import populace, and might have seen this guy before. The network, maybe. I don't think that's what the Skrulls looked like but hell if I know. Alastair had two choices, and right now, the need to rely on someone who might be smarter and stronger than him overrode his fear that he was about to reveal himself to the enemy. He hissed softly from the other side of the doorway, and then whispered, "baich'feeuh'fwhy~" before realizing he was still speaking the other language. With a hard shake of his head, he righted his thinking and went on in English. "You! Over here!"

[heal_or_execute]

"Hm?" Mordin perked up immediately at the sound of someone addressing him in a language he actually knew. Looking around for a moment to make sure no one was observing, he moved to the doorway and peered through to the other side.

"Another ImPort," Mordin observed, deducing that Alastair was most probably not anymore local to this universe than he was. "Excellent. Wait, not excellent. Implies abductions more widespread, not limited to self. More serious issue. Excellent due to new options opening up- possibility to gain new information, escape."

He paused to inhale. Having no one intelligible to talk to had left Mordin's mouth a little more wound up than usual. "You haven't been captured. Why?"

[hackeralastair]

Thankfully, the use of English - even with his strange speech pattern - righted Alastair mentally to be able to speak properly. "Let's just say, I've had a lot of practice running and hiding," he said morbidly. "Keep your eyes open, lie to the right people, you're all good."

He craned his neck past Mordin to see into the room where others had been, to make sure they still weren't within earshot. "So they're really capturing people. Any idea what for? What are they doing?"

[heal_or_execute]

"Difficult to tell. Can't understand their language, can't make self understood. Infer capture a result of contamination concerns and scientific curiosity." Mordin sniffed with contempt. "Sloppy research techniques so far. Won't get any useful data from me this way. Could teach them a thing or two if they would listen."

Mordin could easily have gone on a longer spiel on this topic, but something Alastair said focused his attention. "Lie to the right people- implies ability to communicate. Do you understand them?"

[hackeralastair]

Alastair nodded shyly. "I have the power, I can understand them as long as I hear them." For a fleeting moment, a ghost of a smirk flashed across his thin lips. "Helps with the not getting captured." It was gone, then, and he sobered up as he craned his neck to see into the room and around them one more time. "If you wanna get out I can probably help. But I don't know if they'll stop us if they see more than one person wandering around. It's pretty risky." He wasn't about to stick his neck out for someone he didn't know, but he wasn't about to just turn his back and walk away, either. Not if he could be useful.

[heal_or_execute]

"Yes." It was risky but also tempting. Mordin did not like being contained. He also did not fancy the idea of facing those syringes- he was used to being the one holding the needle. "Better to stay here for now. Can escape when there's a plan. Learn more in meantime. Still don't know where we are or why."

He looked at the two Tiriseans he had been listening to. They seemed to be moving away for now, which was a relief. Now he didn't have to worry as much about Alastair being spotted.

"Overhead a conversation just now," he said. "Can repeat it for you, find out what it meant. Sounded important."

[hackeralastair]

Alastair stared at him for a moment, even though by now he really shouldn't have been surprised at the weirdness potential of, well, anything. "You can repeat it, even if you don't understand it?" He shrugged stiffly. "Well. Yeah, I can give it a shot."

He made sure to stay just out of sight of the Tiriseans across the way, leaning up against the door. He was rather enjoying his freedom and wanted to keep it regardless of whether the alien doctor was going to join him.

[heal_or_execute]

"Photographic memory. Inherent trait for my species. Comes in handy." Mordin smiled, then launched into a syllable-for-syllable repetition of the exchange he had just witnessed, complete with applicable hand gestures in case body language was particularly important to this culture's communication. His pronunciation was fumbling- remembering the words didn't mean he could form them- but the gist was still intelligible.

[hackeralastair]

Fortunately, Alastair had never noticed whether speaking a language well determined whether his power worked or failed - it just worked. A few syllables triggered it enough, and his mind processed the conversation just fine. It didn't make any sense, absent of context, but the words themselves made him shiver a little. "Baich'eaye'dehn'ggee~foo'dehn," he said without thinking, and then closed his eyes tight to try to right his own speech without losing the words he had just heard. If he repeated them quickly enough, the translation would work. "No, no, Import...the timestream is cut across," he breathed, clenching his fists as if trying to grab the words out of the air. "How? Vulcanus. A myth..." He shook his head, it was starting to vanish. "The other guy laughed, he said no, no."

Raising his head, Alastair stared hard at Mordin's big alien eyes. "But this isn't Earth, how do they know about Vulcanus?"

[heal_or_execute]

Mordin's big alien eyes looked very concerned right now. "Don't know. Shouldn't be possible. Implies Vulcanus has been interfering with this culture. Similar to reports of Skrull agents in Metricog. Can't be coincidence."

He inhaled, stroked his chin. "Reference to timestream especially troubling. Possible time travel? Need to find out more."

[hackeralastair]

Alastair groaned a little, sagging against the wall. He didn't want to linger to be caught, but if he was useful...

Damn his power for being so stupidly essential in very few, very specific moments, many of which corresponded with his safety being in question.

"I'd be careful about asking too many questions," he warned. "The one said he thought Vulcanus was a myth. From what they were babbling about at first...it sounds like they've caught on that 'Import' is how you say..." He almost repeated Empoortah but didn't, in case he lost control of his own language. "...I didn't hear 'Import,' I heard 'devil.' Just so you know."

[heal_or_execute]

"Discouraging," Mordin murmured, deep in thought. "Implies deep cultural tampering, possibly continuing for quite some time. Entire world probably conditioned toward hostility, deceived by Vulcanus."

An idea struck him. "Could you teach some of this language? Share a few crucial phrases, enough to establish communication? Haven't been able to reach captors yet. Need to open a dialogue. Start telling them the truth."

[hackeralastair]

Alastair's lips twisted. "I don't know. I've never tried that before. Most of the time...I just use my power to understand what I hear or read in the moment, not to translate." The uncertain look he gave Mordin was genuine. "It could take a lot of time. Trying to balance the two languages in my brain at the same time, without losing the one or being taken over by it. I've honestly never done it so I don't know."

He had his doubts, but most of them were about whether the natives would even listen. He knew he wouldn't. A walking devil coming up to him and trying to convince him he was an angel instead?

[heal_or_execute]

Mordin frowned and discarded the idea without wasting any more time. "Best not to risk it then," he said. "Unsafe for you to linger here too long. Observers will return soon."

He looked around again, just to confirm they were still alone for the moment. "Better idea- go continue exploring vessel. Interact as much as you can, learn as much as you can. Come back here when you can. Will have better chance of escape with more information."

[hackeralastair]

"Okay." For lack of any better idea, and the deep-down need to obey someone's orders, Alastair agreed with a nod. "I can do that. I can manage that much. I'll check back in when the coast is clear, maybe at night. It doesn't seem like the security is any better or worse, then."

He paused, and then added with the slightest bit of friendliness, "I'm Alastair."

[heal_or_execute]

"Understood. Will be waiting for you." Mordin smiled at him with a fair bit of friendliness, despite the weariness and discomfort of captivity. Even in this situation, meeting and learning from new people was always a pleasure. "Good luck."