Rexel
By Lore
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Space. Their few days on Illia had felt like longer but Destiny’s chronometers confirmed that only three days had passed. They now found themselves in the Rexel system and before making planetfall, the tablet had updated. This time there was only one goal listed: Find them. Lore was beginning to dislike their future selves sense of humour but knew that their task was probably easier to complete than the vague message made it out to be. Curves was at the helm, piloting Destiny through the upper atmosphere of Rexel Five. Lore and Char had taken to lounging in their quarters to avoid whatever was going on between Curves and Destiny and would occasionally check in on the other clones, making sure they were settling in nicely. Just like Lore, Ace had taken a disliking to the ships mattresses but was getting used to them. On the outside, the ship was making swift work of the upper atmosphere, cutting through the ocean of smog. As the ship came closer to the single above ground city it began to thin but only just.
Landing hadn’t been easy but they were down. The pad was ramshackle and well past its official inspection date but the ship was stable and she was confident she wouldn’t fall. Lore didn’t want to attract too much attention to the group so left Destiny in charge of the ship while they took Char for a ‘nose around’. Once they had left their docking platform, the integrity of the docks improved. The other bays were packed with freighter ships loading and unloading cannisters of unlabelled substances. The whole place had a burnt metallic tang which lingered in the nose and mouth. They continued on, trying to get their bearings. Off of the docks was a large square, hollow at its centre with a shaft leading directly to the lowest levels of the mines. Lining the metal donut were buildings, taller than most skyscrapers with tips obscured by the smog. The first and most evident thing Lore learnt was how woefully under dressed they were. The locals, at least the human ones anyway were all sporting breathing equipment. The need was quickly understood as Lore’s breath slowly became laboured. The two of them approached an open faced building that looked as though it was a shop. The smell of the planet was only partially masked by whatever meats the four armed chef was marinating behind his counter. After catching Lore’s eyes he flew into a rage, gesturing wildly with his free hands and shouting in his own alien tongue. Lore thought they understood some of what he said but the smog was getting to them. Running with held breath, Lore returned to the ship. Char didn’t seem too phased but joined them to make sure they didn’t fall in their oxygen deprived stupor.
“Bloody hell.” They gasped. “Destiny!”
“She’s busy. Can we help?” Magpie and the majority of the clones were gathered in the garage.
“We’re going to need respirators of some kind out there.” Char handed Lore a purge kit from the shelf and began to drain their lungs.
“Our helmets have pretty decent purifiers should we need them.” Ace handed their helmet to Char who looked over the breathing apparatus.
“These should be more than enough. And hiding your identity is a good bonus.”
“What about you?” Lore had their oxygen mask quickly slammed back onto their face.
“I’m fine. Plus we’ve only got the four helmets.”
“And with Curves busy with Destiny, we’re all good.” Magpie grappled at Curves’ helmet, knocking it to the floor but catching it before it made contact.
“Lets get going then.” Lore took Curves’ helmet from Magpie and nodded at the others to get themselves ready.
The second time was much more pleasant. The helmet filtered most of the smell which was better than nothing and it no longer hurt to breathe. They returned as a group to the square.
“You guys go that way, we’ll take this side. Regroup over…” Lore pointed towards the middle on the far side of the shaft. “There in twenty minutes?” They nodded as if to answer their own question.
Lore and Char walked up to the butchers or restaurant again. The four armed chef watched their approach. As they crossed his threshold he began his tirade once more. While they didn’t fully understand what he was saying, Lore picked up on some of the key words.
“Do you speak any languages besides English?”
“A few of the trade languages why?”
“I think he was telling us he understands the local dialect.”
“I’ll give it a go.” Char proceeded to introduce herself in Rexian. The owner understood and returned the introduction.
“He says his name’s Traybar.” At hearing his name, Traybar began talking again. “He wanted to know your name. He thinks he remembers you.” Lore nodded
Upon hearing their name, Traybar retreated to his kitchen. He returned with a familiar black cube encased in a glassy substance. Careful not to mishandle it, he set the cube on the counter. This conscientiousness was abruptly ended as his spatula crashed through the outer shell. He pointed to the cube and then to Lore. They stepped forward and dug the cube from its fragmented case.
“Hi Lore. Welcome to Rexel Five. Hopefully you went somewhere that had respirators before you came here but if you didn’t, there’s a few in the engine room on the Destiny. The UEP frowns on the learning of Non-Terrestrial languages but I’m guessing you know what’s coming next. It won’t make you the best translator but it should get you by. This cube contains the necessary conversational skills in all seven trader languages and a few hidden extras to help make your mission here that little bit easier. Nothing like going to a foreign place and not knowing the language isn’t there.” The hologrammatic Lore faded back into the cube and with them gone, Lore returned to reality.
“Wow. Never get used to that feeling do you?” Lore spoke in stilted Rexian. They let out a short and high pitched gasp.
They thanked Traybar, removing the cube from his counter before leaving his shop. They continued to wander along the left side of the square. And that’s when they saw it. The tablet updated. The face stared back at them, wide eyes piercing their very souls. Runaways.
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