Part Two

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part Two

Words: Grit, Warmth, Foggy, Experiment, Honey, Lost, Doubt

It was mind boggling. Was this actually happening? There was something that looked like a weird spaceship in the form of a cylindrical tube the color of liquid mercury with a tiny figure inside – an alien.

Jax and Cliff both simultaneously reached up and pinched their forearms, mirroring the motion as if it were planned.

Swallowing the nerves that was making him tremble, Jax carefully secured the tongs onto the edge of the silver cylinder and began pulling it away from its original crash site. Cliff said nothing and instinctually maneuvered out of the way so that Jax could pull the ship in between the two of them safely away from the flames.

The looked down, gawking at what was inside. There, inside of the silver cylinder, was a six inch tall figure. Their limbs were limp, and they were wearing what looked like some kind of black mesh and leather flight suit. Cliff counted two arms, two legs, one head, and most interestingly another limb that made him think it might be some kind of tail. There was a dark helmet secured to their head, but it was obvious there was a crack along the surface.

Is that what was causing some of the hissing sound? Or was it just the ship? Cliff wondered as he crouched a little lower to examine the ship.

Tiny lights flashed and blinked all around the padded interior. Symbols on a screen flashed intermittently, but neither boy had any indication of what that could mean.

"Is it… dead?" asked Jax as he began reaching the tongs forward. Cliff was about to scold him for using the tongs on the figure, but was relieved when his friend merely grabbed the edge of the cylinder and gave it a little shake.

Both boys nearly leapt out of their skin when they saw the most minute movement from the figure's chest and the head twitch subtly. They knew it wasn't because of the movement of the cylinder that caused the movement, meaning this alien was alive. Cliff's fascination was making him tingly all over, and the shaking in his friend's shoulders told him Jax was feeling the same way.

"Dude!" hissed Jax. "There's an alien. A freakin' alien! Do you know how dope this is!? We might be the first to make contact with an alien species."

"Allegedly," grinned Cliff. Both boys exchanged an amused look, having read up on dozens of conspiracies and "abduction accounts" during their research, before turning their attention back to the figure.

"Do you think it's hurt? Can it even breathe oxygen? All of these things are leaking and stuff, and we do not have the equipment to make an environmental chamber suited for it if it doesn't breathe oxygen at our atmospheric levels," fretted Cliff. Jax noticed the crack in the alien's helmet and his brow furrowed. He was obviously trying to think of a good solution, as was Cliff.

"Okay, let's assume for a second that it can breathe oxygen. I'm basing this off of the fact that it took us thirty minutes or so to get here and this ship-pod thing has probably been open this whole time. Unless this thing doesn't abide by the rule of threes, it can probably breathe in our atmosphere," stated Jax.

His friend was right. Cliff remembered the rule of threes being three weeks without food, three days without water or sleep, three hours in a harsh environment, and, the most important for this argument, three minutes unconscious without breathable air while unconscious.

"Okay, assuming these things are true," added Cliff. "Then we can assume that this ship-pod thing wouldn't open if the environment wasn't ideal. I'm basing this off the fact that a species capable of interstellar travel would have the tech and wherewithal to make sure a survival pod wouldn't open in harmful conditions."

"So, at the moment, we're assuming the alien is stable," concluded Jax. Cliff nodded affirmatively. "Okay, then the next big question is what do we do next? Assuming the online conspiracy theories are right and everything, the government might want to experiment on the little guy. On the other hand, this might be part of a scouting mission or invasion force. This is just starting to get complicated, and I don't want this thing face hugging me in the middle of the night and implanting little chest bursting aliens in my throat."

This was ultimately the biggest question they had to contend with. Was there a "right" choice? They were far out of their depth when it came to preparedness and knowledge. It was a judgment call which had countless unforeseen repercussions.

What was the right thing to do?

Cliff chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought, a nervous habit that often left him tasting iron by the time he came up with a solution. Both points Jax made were valid, but it was clear to him which one felt like the right thing to do; and he had the argument to back it up.

"I think… we take our chances and bring him with us back home." Jax's eyes widened as he listened to his friend's words. It was obvious, even beneath the mask, that he was about to interject, so Cliff continued. "Hear me out. Just look at this tube for a second. Do you see any weapons? Do you see anything on here that might indicate anything other than life support? And what about our little alien companion? Any weapons? Side arms?

"I think this whole thing is supposed to be an escape pod and that our little alien was either in danger from his crew mates and had to evacuate using this escape pod or something happened to the original ship, which is probably the bigger chunk of burning mass that was falling from the sky that we thought was a meteor, like a technical malfunction. Either way, I think at least this little guy here is safe. This is just a theory though. I could be horribly wrong, but that's what my gut is telling me."

Jax listened patiently to his friend's logic and, after a few minutes, nodded.

"Your argument is sound enough, but on the off chance this guy has acid blood or some kind of weapon, is there something we can… I don't know… put him in for the time being?" asked Jax. Then, his eyes brightened. "Wait, our experiments from last year. We've got those plastic containers."

"My thoughts exactly," concurred Cliff. "We've got those ULINE poly tubs and, worst case scenario, mom has some catering equipment in the shed that is probably acid resistant. Until then, we'll just have to take our chances."

Their nerves set back in as they suddenly realized what it was they needed to do next – transport the alien. Both of them with their backpacks were prepared to move rocks, not miniscule alien beings. Still, they had few options available at the moment.

"Okay," said Jax finally. "I'll do the transportation and we'll keep him at your place. Mom is inspecting my room tomorrow to see if I've cleaned so now is a bad time for me. If something bad happens, we tell parents and everyone who'll listen. Yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good," breathed Cliff. Jax, obviously shaking, removed his backpack and shifted some of his things to Cliff's bag to give the most space possible for the space pod. The boys worked together to tape part of the pod open so it wouldn't close on the figure or accidentally seal shut during transportation.

They also tried to secure the figure by gently laying some of their emergency duct tape along the opening across the figure's legs and chest and securing it to either side of the opened pod. The moment of truth came and Jax's brave face was threatening to crack. It was Cliff's reassuring bump on his shoulder that really pushed Jax over the edge and away from his uncertainty.

Using his heat resistant gloves, Jax lifted the pod off of the ground and slid it into his backpack, using what little padding he had as well as his jacket to make sure the pod didn't jostle around too much.

The entire time, the figure only stirred twice, but made no additional movements even as Jax zippered his pack shut. Before leaving, Cliff made sure to tamp out all of the smoldering brush to prevent potential environmental hazards.

And with that, they were off. Neither of them knew what was going to happen or how they were going to navigate the countless decisions before them. One thing they did know was that this decision felt right, and they had their logic to back it up.

They could only hope they were right.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Warmth.

Foggy.

Groggy.

Pain.

Cold.

Confusion.

Ol'oih wasn't sure which thing he felt more. The confusion of everything leading up to him blacking out felt like a bad dream, and the pain in his body made the experience real. It was a souvenir of recent events, and it wasn't a pleasant one.

He could've sworn he heard voices at some point, but he couldn't be sure. They were loud and booming, but also muffled. Was that because his hearing was damaged? Was it his life support helmet? Or was this actually how the voices were supposed to sound?

There was a fair amount of jostling all around him and, at some point, he was once again stationary. Every element of training told him he needed to be awake and aware, but his body was absolutely no help in this endeavor. He just needed to rest to heal and, ultimately, that was the logical choice too.

Ol'oih knew that he would be no use to himself or any one of his crew mates if he was incapacitated and hurting. So, he relented and let himself sleep.

When he returned to consciousness, however, he wasn't sure if he had made the correct decision to rest. For a moment, he thought he was still beneath the night sky until he realized that the "stars" above him weren't stars but merely beams of light. He was surrounded by darkness all around except for the little dots of light above him.

Another thing he noticed was that his helmet had a massive crack along the screen, breaking the airtight seal and exposing him to the atmosphere. He thanked Ove silently that this atmosphere was a friendly one and not something that was toxic. He'd be out of luck if that were the case. The rest of his limbs felt intact, albeit stiff, and he was laying on something that was soft that wasn't the safety of his escape pod.

A thousand questions came to mind.

What happened when he blacked out? Where was his crew? Were they alright? Were they the ones who found him? Or did something – someone – else find him and bring him here? Had he been captured? Was he now someone's experiment? Or had he been rescued from the crash? Where even was he? Had they even managed to crash near the rendezvous point?

His body thrummed nervously as he allowed his feelings of doubt to overwhelm him before taking two deep breaths, as he had learned in his training, before collecting his thoughts and worrying about one problem at a time. It was all he could do. Getting through this was going to take grit and determination, and laying there being afraid was not a luxury he could afford at the moment.

First problem was his ability to see. His vision was still a bit foggy, but that probably had something to do with his helmet and the lack of light around him. He had something for that, but he'd need to remove part of his suit. It was a risk he needed to take.

Ol'oih extended his arm forward, feeling it twinge slightly, to make sure he wasn't going to sit up into a wall or ceiling. Confirming his surroundings, Ol'oih cautiously sat up and detached the clasps keeping his helmet affixed to his suit and pulled his helmet off of his head.

Now free, he realized he was feeing a bit woozy. He hadn't had anything to eat in who knew how long and would need to consume something soon if he was going to survive. Everything cost precious energy, even what he was about to do to see his surroundings, and he needed to ration correctly if he was going to get out of this ordeal alive.

His body thrummed again, but he shut down his feelings of nervousness as he focused on the task at hand. Ol'oih reached up and removed one of his protective gloves and concentrated on the ciferi in his hand. Like he'd done so many times in his youth, the ridges leading from his core to the tips of his four fingers began to glow a soft green, illuminating the space around him.

What he saw made a pit form in his core.

All around him were portless, doorless walls with odd ridges along the top which undoubtedly latched the roof to the rest of the structure. Nothing else was in the containment unit other than what Ol'oih was sitting on, which resembled a type of white growth similar to this planet's moss. The item didn't seem alike like the white growths from his home, so he elected to stay sitting.

Being close enough to touch the walls, Ol'oih hesitantly gave the wall a push. Though it didn't give easily, there was an element to it that was extremely synthetic as well as flexible. With the right nudge, Ol'oih thought he might be able to use it to his advantage.

I need to measure the space and estimate how tall this thing is. If whatever put me in here is hostile, I need to be able to jump out if I can. It'll take energy, so I need to use my opportunities wisely.

So, with that in mind, Ol'oih stood and walked to the far wall. He pressed his back against it before walking at a steady pace from one side to the next, using his gate as a measurement. He repeated this for the width and then reached as high as he could to guestimate the height of the container he was in.

Okay, twelve ambas wide, thirty-seven long, and probably twenty or so wide? 8880 sambas. Great. I won't run out of air, plus the holes in the top should allow air inside. No suffocation. My standing jump is twelve. Running might be fifteen? Using my addon, I could probably hook it along the top and swing to get out if I really needed to.

Last resort though. Lots of energy to do something like that. Plus, that's if I need to escape. If I can, I will communicate my intentions. About time I'm able to practice my practical language skills. Years of study and simulations finally paying off.

Looks like being a communication ensign actually is coming in handy.

This thought made Ol'oih tremor nervously. Though everyone had basic language in the program, he was the only one of their crew who was fluent. If the others were in trouble, they'd have no true way to communicate.

In the middle of his swirling thoughts and feelings of being completely and utterly lost, Ol'oih was suddenly interrupted as the entire container around him shifted. The sudden jostle threw him to the side and then to all fours as there was a cacophonous cracking sound.

Juthez! Out of time to make a plan. Can't pretend to go back to sleep. No sense in that. I need answers and assistance. Looks like communication is my only option. Juthez! Please be friendly.

The thrumming wracking Ol'oih's body was making him feel completely sick and cold, but he knew this was necessary. The doubt in his mind would have to be pushed to the side for the time being. Skill alone was what he had to rely on, and he could only hope it would be enough.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Both boys had managed to make it to Cliff's home without disturbing his parents. Jax was the one brave enough to lift the six inch tall figure of the alien out of the pod and into the plastic storage container while Cliff arranged a towel for a bed, arguing that it would be cruel for the alien to just be on the hard ground when he could be injured.

Jax went home and immediately cleaned his room while Cliff kept the storage container under his desk with the lid fastened securely. He tried going back to sleep, but knowing there was an alien mere feet from his bed was enough to keep the teen away from sleep for the next week.

It would be hours before Jax reached out saying his room had passed inspection and another twenty minutes before Cliff's parents were awake and preparing to go to work. He'd asked if it was okay if Jax came over, to which his parents agreed as long as they didn't perform any science experiments.

Cliff felt like he was lying by omission by saying he and Jax wouldn't be doing any science experiments since they would be investigating the alien, but he deemed that as a scientific investigation and not an experiment and agreed. With his assurance, his parents left for work and Jax was over within minutes.

He had barely crossed the threshold before the questions started coming out.

"Has the alien woken up? Have you checked on him? Do we know if it's a him? What if he doesn't wake up? Are you as stoked as I am because I'm literally vibrating all over!" Jax's inability to contain his excitement was hilarious and he quickly pulled his friend inside his house.

"Dude, just take a breath. Yeah, I'm stoked too, but we need to chill. If the alien reads emotions and stuff like that, he might get spooked. This is a friendly check-up and possible exchange of information, possibly with the first alien in history. Oh, who am I kidding, I'm shaking all over. I couldn't even go back to sleep," grinned Cliff.

"Me too!" Jax's grin was stretching from ear to ear. Cliff knew his expression had to be the same to the point his cheeks were starting to hurt. "So, do we check on him now? Or what?"

"Only logical," agreed Cliff. "If he's still passed out, then we can investigate the ship, which is still safely under the bed. If he's awake, we can commence Operation: First Contact."

"Nerd," teased Jax, getting the reference immediately, as both teens made their way to Cliff's room. What started as a confident stride immediately shifted to cautiously optimistic steps as they shuffled into Cliff's room and crouched by the hard plastic crate. As carefully as they could, they pulled the crate out from under the desk.

As they did, both boys felt the crate jostle subtly, as if something fell over, and let their excitement override caution as they cracked open the top of the crate. Light flooded into the crate, and, for the first time, they saw someone looking back at them.