Designated Survivor 3

Their presence was announced by slightly heavier than normal breathing.

Diana was fine. 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 on its hind legs at the Captain's feet, the tips of its long ears only reaching 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, 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 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/leader/powerful.'

The speed at which it darted down the staircase surpassed Diana's expectations. "What, what was 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 rapid 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 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. 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!"