The Royal Court In Exile

Posted on Tue Jun 11th, 2019 @ 12:31am by The Narrator & Staff Warrant Officer Blaise Birch

Mission: S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: The Sleepers Bazaar, The Mire, Messier 4
Timeline: MD9 14.15AM

"So...you're like us? Astronauts on some sort of star trek?"

Fenris held out a dented metal cup of water to Madrid, and looked back into the room. Rollin's was laid out on the floor of the shack Fenris had led them to, his injured leg elevated by a pile of clothing. The crew chief had lapsed back into unconsciousness shortly after arriving, and the fever had returned speaking ill of his fate. One of the blue-skinned Shishimi patted his forehead with a damp cloth, whilst droning on and on about some fantastical game they used to play back home.

Peasant Billards didn't sound like a good game, but the Shishimi seemed to think it was the best.

The rest of the shack was pretty much a dormitory, with little in the way of comfort save a water spigot that dribbled a lukewarm but apparently clean water source out into a drain. The horned Chadiran's and the blue-skinned Shishimi shared the space, which was large enough to hold double their number.

But like the broken horned Chadrian who had given them the cold shoulder earlier had said, they had once numbered a lot more before the predations of the Bazaar.

"And you don't represent a single nation, but some sort of coalition of entire worlds? The United Polity Of Worlds wasn't it?" Fenris enquired further.

"United Federation of Planets," Blaise corrected. "Though we're a long way from there."

"Yeah, that Milky Way thing you were talking about. Funny name for a galaxy," Fenris noted as he eyed Blaise. "You don't look so good."

"You should run with that," Blaise said. "If we aren't returned to our people soon, then I will start to become not so friendly."

"Oh I don't know!" one of the droopy-eared Shishimi hopped in front of Blaise, entering his personal space like a Romulan warbird on manoeuvres near the neutral zone. Bright clever eyes, the eyes of a child who had fallen from a tree and suffered no broken bones and had thus decided it was immortal, appraised Blaise openly. "You look basically harmless. No claws, and teeth-"

The Shishimi pushed a finger into Blaise's mouth.

And that's when things went to hell. Blaise had tried to be good. His primal urges driven by the lack of his biological and chemical dependency had been hard to deny. Then he had a warm, fleshy morsel shoved directly into his mouth. His palate craved the taste of shed blood.

So he bit down. Hard. The crunch of the severed digit preceded a cascading gush of blood that filled his mouth. Despite the lingering but rapidly dwindling conflict of conscience, Blaise had to admit one thing before he tackled the Shishimi in search of arterial access: he tasted better than Reka.

There was a sound. And that really didn't convey the sort of ear-splitting vocalisation that came out of the mouth of the Shishimi as he pulled his hand back protectively. Minus a digit. The other two blue-skinned aliens didn't pay their fellow any attention, apparently sticking his fingers into sharp things was not that uncommon for him.

"Oh you brute! You fiend! Why if I was sat upon my rightful throne I would have your heads mounted on the wall! But no! No I am here, and all because of my treacherous brother Bar'soon! How dare he have the cheek to survive the car bombing I planned for weeks!" he fummed...and then seemed to calm, leaning in a little. "So...what do I taste like? I always wondered but my royal gaurds were very much against the idea."

He held up his hand, and from the stump of the missing finger a paler nub was beginning to grow out.

"I mean look, hardly worth mention really" he said and then turned the hand. "You shake yes? Hands? I am Far'huun delathero Faltinix the 18th, Heir to the Lighting Throne, Lord and Master of all of Shimi and all its celestial companions."

Blaise snarled as he took a chunk out of Far'huun's shoulder with his slathering maw.

"Blaise!" Elias shouted from where he had been chatting with Fenris on the other end of the darkened room.

The Corvan threw back his head and chewed with loud smacking noises.

The two Shishimi bodyguards finally seemed to remember their job roles. A few lacklustre kicks that landed more on Far'huun than Blaise. Fenris sighed.

"I wish I could say this is the first time I've seen that kid savaged," the Chadrian shook his head. "But look, your people have the ability to come for us. This is the best chance of rescue I've seen in a year. If you have too guess, how many do you think your ship could hold? I know watching your person get a belly full of the prince is enticing to watch, but focus on the important aspect. This place is a powder keg of gangs, but if we offer people an escape that isn't death or enslavement...well it'll be interesting."

Elias wasn't listening at first. His eyes were fixed on Birch, watching him with concern. Was he cracking up? Lucky for them their hosts didn't get too offended over aggravated assault. That could have spiraled into another dangerous situation.

Then, realizing that Fenris was talking to him, Elias stammered out a reply. "Res-rescue? Yeah, they'll come for us. I hope." He glanced at the wounded Rollins again, then back at Fenris. "I imagine this place is well defended against outside rescue attempts? Obviously, that's the first concern. If our people can get past that then we can beam up several dozen. Maybe more. Our support ships should have enough capacity." He brought the metal cup to his lips but stopped short. "Wait. How many people were you thinking of pulling out of here?"

Fenris gestured to one of the walls of the hovel. There a plastic tarp of dirty yellow had been hung from a pair of broken dripping pips. Pulling it aside to reveal an opening in the all, Fenris lead Madrid out onto a balcony of sorts. It was more the top of another container the hovel was built atop, but the impressive view was not to be missed.

The far side of the space was shrouded in the thick yellow-green haze of atmosphere. Distant shapes moved through the muck, tall spindly legged things like spiders of metal and rotting meat. And in tiers and knotted concentrations, more of the container like dwellings. Hundreds. Thousands. More? It was like looking out across the agri dome of a Starbase or domed colony.

"One or two kid," Fenris said as he crossed his arms. "One or two."

"And here I thought you were going to ask something difficult of me," Elias deadpanned.

"If that jacket you're wearing is anything like the uniform I put on to defend the constitution of the Caledon Federation, then you knew zipping it up that 'easy' wasn't part of the deal," Fenris said. Behind them, one of the bodyguards was beginning a scathing critique of Blaise form and offering helpful suggestions on how to improve his maiming of a royal scion. "Most days we wear it, it's a fair enough gig. Get up, get the job done, get back to your bunk in one piece without cratering on the runway. Others, well those are the days when you need to perform a few miracles to get to the pillow."

Elias nodded. "Yeah, well, I-"

Blaise screamed. It wasn't a high-pitched, fear-based falsetto, but a deep-throated, guttural roar of shame. "Oh, God, why?!!!" His blood-soaked hands squished fluid through his fingers as they curled into fists. Falling to his knees to implore the infernal heavens in which they found themselves, he roared another, "Why!!!" The syllable stretched into sobs that were heaved into the floor.

Elias traded a look with Fenris. "Now what?" The two men ducked back into the hovel.

"Existential fall out," one of the royal bodyguards said with a sigh as Fal'huun slowly rolled over onto one side and began to drag himself towards the other side of the hovel. With what was missing from his throat and shoulder, you'd think the mortal wounds would be of prime concern. BUt Fal'huun was gripping the torn collar of his tunic, making bubbling rasping threats and demands for the head of a tailor.

"It's hopeless." Blaise somehow managed to speak with his bloodied chin pressed into his chest. "We're doomed and it's hopeless. Might as well kill us now. We're already dead."

Elias took a knee in front of the science officer. "Birch, what the hell is happening with you?" He didn't expect an answer. But what to do with the man? Tie him up? Kill him? They needed all hands on deck right now, especially for the plans Fenris was making. Elias shook his head. Birch wasn't going to be there. He already wasn't there by the looks of things.

"Is he all right?" Elias asked, nodding to Fal'huun.

The answer to Elias' question was delayed, but no less forceful. "I am fading away! The NOS-4-A2 in my blood is all but depleted. My sanity is hanging on by force of habit... I... I become the monster... and I like it." His black eyes squinted against the light. "And I'm still hungry."

"I'll be fine!" Fal'huun said, waving a hand to banish worth worry, It would have been a much more disarming gesture had the hand not flopped about on a clearly broken wrist, before snapping back into place. Gaps in his neck were filling in, as cell's rapidly went about repairing like a city works crew on overtime. "He was more gentile than my pet ralic cat. Oh I know Tupsy didn't meant to maul me, but really did he hand to use all six claws? It ruined a perfectly good suit."

"NOS-4-A2, what is that?" Elias asked, turning his attention back to Birch. Even as the question came out of his mouth his mind began putting the puzzle pieces together. Birch wasn't cracking up under the stress of being in this prison. He was missing medical treatments. He drew a deep breath and exhaled sharply. Oh, this was bad. He'd had no idea, never having met Birch before this disastrous away mission. He was afraid to ask the next question but knew he had to. "What are you hungry for? Blood? Flesh?"

In reply, Blaise opened his mouth in a wide, hissing snarl and dove for Elias. Just as he was about to tear into the man's jugular, he pulled himself back. "No!" he screamed. "No!!!" Elias quickly back away from the man.

"You dare insult my royal personage! I was the best meal you ever had!" Fal'huun bellowed in rage.

And then a very odd thing began to happen. Or more pointedly, began to beep. Under the skin of their arms, where the Harbour Master's Proxy had grabbed them all to install the vaccination implant, soft orange light was strobing. It didn't hurt, it was just bright.

"Click Honoured Sentients. Rejoice! You have been selected for formal showing in the Sleeper's Bazaar! Should interest in your personage continue to rise at market predicted values, your sale into indentured service will be a boon to the office of The Harbour Master," An overly cheerful voice boomed from somewhere overhead. The Sishimi had scuttled back against a wall as the voice spoke, and Fenris's skin had gone pale.

"Oh no," the Chadrian said.

Elias ran his fingers over the blinking light under his skin. "What does it mean?" He asked Fenris. "What happens now?"

"Now... the end." Blaise sank to his haunches and hung his head between his knees.