On a Sea of Strange Stars Ch1. Pt1.

Einar Haldsen placed the last of his emergency supplies into the forward stowage aboard the old twenty eight foot sloop, Emery, and latched the cover shut, then made sure that the latches were locked in the rest of the cabin and made his way up on deck. It was still early morning in June, and the weather was said to be clear for the next two weeks. But that was just what the computer models were forecasting. As anyone can tell you, mother nature has her own ideas.

But Einar was pretty firm in his confidence that he had everything The Emery and he would need to make the trip from Naples to Nassau and from there to Bermuda. It was something that he had wanted to do his whole life, and at 64 years old, with no work and no retirement to look forward to, he could only laugh and say, 'what the hell, I might as well go do it.'

His son had grown up and joined the military, married and had two kids of his own. Not that Einar was any part of that life, because his wife's mother had a serious distaste for what she called lower class people. Meaning anyone who wasn't from old or new money, and cared more about living and being kind to others. But Evan had his own mind and was devoted to only three things in his life. His wife, his kids and his career as a Marine corps officer.

When the company that Einar had worked at his whole life had been forcefully absorbed by an investment fund, and consequently bankrupted, gutted and butchered for parts, he and everyone he had worked with were given a worthless piece of paper and a swift kick in the ass for their time. But that is what happens when corporations and bankers can buy politicians.

Einar grunted and shook his head as he triple checked his charts, the weather reports and his plots. He had to get rid of those thoughts, because he absolutely did not want them keeping him company on his last big adventure. Sixty four years old was hitting the top end of the average ability for anyone to do solo voyages unless a person already had decades on their captain's license, and his was only a few years old. Final checks done, he radioed the harbor master and registered his course, then cast off.

Einar's thoughts were slow and disjointed as he dragged himself awake. It felt like he had slept for a week or more, and his body felt the same. He more than felt something was wrong though, not that he could pinpoint anything in particular, it wasn't the usual pain of his shoulder or elbow waking him up. It wasn't his knees for once either. It was everything. His whole body felt bruised. Every joint, tendon, muscle and tooth ached to the point that it burned and caused him to gasp, then cough and groan in agony. And now that he had, he was aware of the parched dryness of his mouth.

He tried to remember what had happened to cause his situation. He could remember making the trip to Nassau, with fair winds and helpful tides. He remembered meeting up with a younger woman in her forties, dancing, flirting.. She was very likely some housewife on vacation away from her husband and kids, or had left them in the care of one of the local teens while she slipped away and indulged in some anonymous sex with someone she would never see again. He certainly hoped that the husband wasn't the cause of his current pain, because if that were so then Einar could certainly vouch for his career future with the mafia collectors.

Einar twitched a smile in spite of the pain. 'She had been worth it.' he thought to himself. 'All six hours of fucking, flirting, touching and simply being skin to skin with someone again.'

Two hours later, he was absolutely certain that it wasn't the husband. He had managed to sit up and found himself in a cell. A sink, a round cylindrical something that was probably the toilet, and a door with an opaque panel that might have been a window. At first he thought he had gotten involved in some crime in Nassau to end up in a cell, but the memory of leaving Nassau harbor and three nights tacking upwind toward Bermuda were still clear in his mind. The winds were exactly what were forecasted, the seas only slightly on the high side at 6 foot crests, and the stars were... The stars..

His mind froze as he vaguely remembered something unusual about the stars. And then the panel on the door turned clear, and a mechanical sounding voice barked out a command. "Stand specimen!"

Einar's thoughts came to a screeching halt when he looked at the face of his jailer. "Well..fuck."

Ch1. Pt2.

"Ahh, Vol'Kreen," Announced the mechanical translator. This one had managed to pick up tonalities and inflections, which meant the translator had been in use for quite a while and often. "Honored Vol'Kreen. What brings you to my humble collection of oddities this day?"

The voice had emanated from a voice box slung from the narrow carapace breast of the shop owner. A Vuuthani of late middle years by the wear on the edges of his thorax and limb joints. The Vol'Kreen customer knew that they would be due for a molting soon, so this visit was timed very well. They, it was never easy to determine the sex of a Vuuthani, would be very distracted by the constant itching and so they would be likely to be missing their haggling edge. Not that the Vol'Kreen could count on that, but it was a thought.

"Have you found any oddities lately, Xeuuln?" asked the heavily armored figure as it approached Xeuuln at their counter.

"Ahh.. sadly, only a little, Honored Vol'Kreen. Since your last visit, our scouts have been very busy, but also very unlucky." Xeuuln gave an insectile shrug, its mouth bits clawing the air in front of it in their best approximation of a smile. "Still, there is the relic that you passed over on your last visit, Honored Vol'Kreen."

The heavily armored figure paused for a fraction of a second before waving in the negative. "I have no interest in superstitious paraphernalia, Xeuuln." a pause..."But if you have decided that twenty marks was too high of an ask, perhaps we can come to an agreement."

The mouthbits waggled in the air again and the mantis-like head tilted to one side. "Honored Vol'Kreen.. Perhaps it is that your memory has begun to fade? Such a sad thing for one so young of your breed. The asking was for thirty marks, not twenty." Xeuuln's head tilted far to the other side as though thinking. "But.. for such a frequent and loyal customer. I might accept twenty. It is, after all, 'superstitious drivel', I believe you called it?"

Xeuuln could not see the smile inside the full helm, but he did know his customers.

Ten minutes later, the heavily armored figure moved easily along the station concourse, most of the other shoppers and sellers moving quickly out of the path of the heavy armor's deep thudding steps. The sight of the iridescent black plates and metallic trim was often enough to remind the denizens of this sector of the destruction that this armor represented. None of them were foolish or intoxicated enough to bring attention to themselves unless they had urgent business with the Vol'Kreen warriors, or knew this one in particular.

The occupant of the armor took their time, looking over the odd bits and bobs, textiles and hardware from all over the sector and beyond. Still, there were concerns swirling in the warriors head, the news from the homeworld, and the demands for increased trade for minerals and chemicals that could not be synthesized outside of their particular origins would be an uncomfortable companion to the captain of their ship, and the stresses would be passed to the rest of the crew no matter how well they were hidden. This was the cost of being so familiar with one another. It was also why the battle armored figure passed through this section of the trade station; any new thing, any oddity or unknown sample could mean a break that the homeworld could exploit. But until it was known, until it was found, the eyes behind the scan-visor had to keep moving. Nothing could be missed.

It was also for those reasons that the armor came to a halt near the portal to one purveyor that was familiar, but was also found to be extremely distasteful.

Ghethiini. The Vol'Kreen as a race may consider more than half of the occupants of this sector as vermin, but Ghethiini in particular were disgusting. Scavengers of the worst sort, carrion eaters that were nearly entirely immune to xenobiological disease, and would eat anything or anyone that fell into what they determined to be prey.

A subtle shiver ran through the armor, but the determination drove its occupant through the portal and into the foyer to speak with the herdmaster.

A bulbous head lifted and brought milky white eyes up toward the armored figure as it entered, its mouth tentacles splayed briefly, and then smoothed again as it managed its visible reaction to the Vol'Kreen.

"Vol'Kreen.. How may I be of assistance to one of such a vaunted reputation?" the voice burbled and bubbled. There was no voice box for this meeting. The Ghethiini had long ago given their primary trade language crystals to all, and the translator implant in the ear of the Vol'kreen did the work of translating.

"Do you have any new biological samples, Ngeedu?" came the reply.

The Ghethiini's posture changed subtly, perhaps a bit of relief? And then it stood from behind the counter and moved in a smooth multilegged gait.

"You have chosen a very auspicious time, Vol'Kreen collector. I do indeed have a new specimen that you will be interested in. Unique, I believe. As well, it has angered my creche mates repeatedly, and we are contemplating its place on our menu."

"Then eat it. Ghethiini." 'And I hope it kills you this time, vermin.' the warrior thought.

"Ahh, but I think this one will be of particular interest to you, Vol'Kreen." the squidlike tentacles shivered in excitement. "It comes to my creche in a Vuloth cryo-pod. And there are many articles within it as well."

The armor froze fractionally, then straightened.

"It is a Vulothi?" The Vol'Kreen's voice was steady, but there was an icy undertone.

"No, had it been so it would have been discarded immediately. Such poor prey were the Vulothi, so inconsiderate to be so very unpalatable even to such as we."

"Is it alive?"

"It is."

"Show me. And I will want these other articles as well, Ghethiin." The heavy armor turned and began marching toward the side door that led to the pens.

"And the pod?" asked the Ghethiini, its hand tentacles rubbing together in excitement at a probable lucrative sale.

"Bah, it is a useless relic. Sell it to some Barath wrecker for recycling."

The Ghethiini gave an approximation of a disappointed sigh and triggered the portal, then followed the Vol'Kreen along the passage.

Ch1. Pt3.

Einar sat propped against the back wall of his new cell. The transparent forcefield that took up the wall opposite of where he sat didn't allow any sound through, and only let him get within about six inches away before it sent some signal to the shock collar on his neck. He had managed to lay himself out unconscious twice before he figured out the exact measure, and his alien guards already knew that measure, damn their squiddy faces.

For almost eight days, or maybe ten? He wasn't sure anymore, he had attempted to communicate with the creatures that kept him captive. They stank horribly, a mixture of dead fish and rotten meat, and something like ammonia. But they weren't interested in talking. It might have had something to do with how he had gotten ahold of one of them and body slammed it into a wall the first time it had entered his cell when he awoke. Rational and civil thought had gone out the window from the first moment with Einar, and after that his captors had kept a very guarded stance around him. It didn't stop them from eyeing him in a very disturbing way from the other side of the forcefield though. And the more mottled among them, probably the one he had taken for an impromptu judo course, was often doing exactly that.

Today..was exactly like the past six days. They slid a plate of some gelatinous cubes through the field on the floor, along with a cup of questionably clean water. The water he drank, and he only tried eating one of the cubes, but it was vile. He was pretty sure he had swallowed something that tasted similar after sicking up at a college party.

Einar wanted to think that today was going to be like every other day, but the vibrations he felt through his right foot on the floor was definitely not like anything before. Still, he sat on the floor, naked and a little cold, feeling those vibrations getting closer and closer until a figure that looked like a mechanized suit of medieval armor came into view.

Einar laughed a little at the oddity of it, and tilted his head. "Well. Now that is new."

He watched as the helmet of the armor turned toward one of the squid-bastards, as he had started calling them, and then turned to look back at Einer. The squid was gesticulating toward Einar, a conversation was being had and he couldn't hear any of it. Not until the helmet turned back to the squid and another silent exchange occurred. A tentacled hand caressed the controls on the left side of the door and a deep voice issued through the forcefield.

"Stand specimen." This was definitely the armor, or the wearer of the armor speaking this time. When the squids spoke, there was some burbling, bubbling speech under the translation. This time it was clear, and had the air of command that was often missing from the squids' usual nervous tones.

Einar tilted his head, and then swept the mid length white hair out of his eyes, then gave a shrug and pushed himself up and stood leaning casually back with his arms crossed over his chest, one foot on the wall behind him in case he had reason and opportunity to make a break for the passageway. From his new vantage, Einer guessed that the armor stood just under six feet tall, maybe an inch over at best compared to his own six foot six inches in height. However, the armor and the wearer probably outmassed him by a bit. He had had enough time in the cell to get familiar with his body, and it had been enough to send his mind reeling. His hair had been salt and pepper grey when he left Nassau, and his sixty four year old body had been tolerably in shape, if not anywhere near being good enough for the older men's magazine cover.

Now though, it was like his body had somehow reverted to when he was twenty, and then got a bonus package from being on some sports team. He was in tip-top form, abs, quads, lats.. The whole package, including his package.

Now if only the ones looking him over weren't so interested in him so very closely like a side of beef. Well, if Einar got the chance, he would make sure they didn't have much to chew with before he became lunch.

The helmet on the armor, moved up and down slowly, then turned to address the squid to its right.

"You fool, that is not prey. I will take it and the contents of the pod." The armor announced, then turned and walked heavily back down the passageway, knocking the squid-bastard against the wall as it passed.

The squid looked from Einar to the armored figure striding away and then followed it, leaving Einar scratching the stubble on his chin.

"Huh.. Hadn't seen that yet."