Breaching the hull of the ship was easier than Harkna anticipated. The main airlock released easily via the manual clamps, and the outer hull was crumpled in such a way that a human could quite easily fit through the hole in it. Harkna first pulls herself out, quickly scanning the area before reaching back for Geltor and Conrad. They waste no time as Geltor begins their various scans while Conrad helps the others through the hole in the ship. 

 Eventually, the remains of the crew stand solemnly outside the vessel, clinging only to tenacity and hope. “What now?” Dulce wonders, absent-mindedly. 

 “There’s an artificial structure roughly two kilometers that direction. Signs of life detected. If I am correct, this planet is not hostile.” Geltor’s voice was lilting yet strangely inhuman, even still to Harkna’s ears. 

 “Relay all information regarding life on this planet,” Harkna clips at Geltor. “Please,” she adds, as an afterthought. 

 “Planet detected: Pelimere. Inhabited by flesh-bound beings capable of communicating with other species via an advanced language-detecting technological system. Peaceful and generally self-interested.” 

​ “How do they feel about uninvited guests?” Musa, Harkna’s right hand, scowls knowingly. 

 “Generally unhappy with surprise visitors; they require a personal invitation from their high king, currently Erliegen VI. However, I have no reason to believe they would be inhospitable to travelers caught in unfortunate situations, such as ourselves.” 

 “Thank you, Geltor,” Harkna furrows her brow, focusing in. “Can you communicate with them from here?” 

 “I can attempt a transmission, yes, Captain.” 

 “Great. Geltor, Conrad – construct a message to the Pelimere base. The rest of you, huddle up.”

 Harkna gazes at the faces of her remaining crew. She was unsure what happened to the main body of the ship; the steering hub had been ejected as part of the emergency protocol and subsequently sucked in by the gravitational pull of Pelimere. The lower decks of the steering hub had been completely done-in upon impact, leaving only the upper back half intact. Four had seemingly survived, five if you counted Geltor, which she was more inclined to do these days. Her core crew was okay. Harkna swallows the fear bubbling inside of her. Despite Geltor’s assurances of peace, she can’t help but doubt the safety of an unknown land. 

 “Boy, am I glad to see your faces.” she checks them over one-by-one: stoic Musa, incomparable Dulce, and whip-smart Noor. A wide range of skills and experiences stare back at her. “We need to take stock of supplies. Anybody manage to grab anything?” 

 “I grabbed the ration bag,” Musa offers. “Should feed us all for a few days…”

 “And I managed the medi-kits,” Dulce slings her bag forward and begins rummaging through it. She breathes sharply through her teeth. “Truthfully, not very well stocked, but it’s certainly better than nothing.” She leaves off with a shrug. 

  “Anybody grab a weapon?” Harkna braces for the obvious answer: they had barely managed to don the atmosuits before crashing onto the surface of Pelimere. Noor holds up a large blade. No one else has anything to offer aside from empty holsters. “Fine enough, for now. Good work, crew. I’m glad you made it out.” With a brusque nod, Harkna turns and marches towards her remaining team members. “Any response from the Pelimere base?” She calls to Geltor as she approaches.

 It's Conrad who responds. “Strangely, radio silence, Captain. We’ve confirmed there are lifeforms at the base, and they do match the expected shape and chemical composition of Pelimerians.” 

 “Odd. How do we feel about approaching?” 

 “I would assume it safe. Due to the Pelimerians’ peculiarities, they may not staff communications if not expecting any invited guests.” Conrad glances at Geltor for approval, who offers no confirmation or comfort. 

 “And you, Geltor?” Harkna queries. “Chances of mishap?”

 “I’m not sure there is another choice, Captain. The ship is irreparable. The Pelimerians should be hospitable, and the lack of response is explainable. I say we approach with caution.” 

  “Very well,” Harkna relents. “Let us rest a moment, then we shall embark…”

…~x~…

The journey was not far. 

 ​ Though the crew was not accustomed to land travel, two kilometers was not much of a distance. They found the walk quite uneventful, and oddly quiet. “Nothing on the scans,” Noor relays, after a chat with Geltor. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I mean.” 

​  As the base enters their view, Harkna finds herself very antsy. “Loose formation, folks. Don’t look too threatening.” The crew shifts subtly around her lead. “Try communicating again, Geltor. Their sensors would have alerted the inhabitants to our presence at this point. Noor, keep an eye on the weapons scan. All of you, stay alert and communicate.” The team silently affirms, sharpening their focus and attempting a casualness to their approach. Some were more diplomatic than others, hence Conrad and Geltor’s position at Harkna’s side – spots usually reserved for Dulce and Musa. This is not combat, Harkna reminds herself. This is a business chat. Harkna shakes off her nerves; she would have much preferred the former. 

 ​ Despite her general anxieties, the captain couldn’t help notice the hairs on her arm standing on end, and a strange stiffness in Conrad. “Anything seeming amiss, Geltor?” She asks softly, warily. 

  ​“Still no response from the base, but I’m detecting the same Pelimerian lifeforms. I find this quite perplexing.” 

 ​“I have a bad feeling about this,” Conrad glances sidelong at the two of them. He straightens his gaze. “Very bad.” As if on cue, the earth around them quivers and quakes, wavering the branches of the plants above them and entirely disorienting the crew. They stare at each other, wide-eyed and wide-stanced, until the tremors subside.

 ​ After a fierce pause, Harkna breathes out with a hiss and readies herself again. Her words are tight-lipped. “No other choice, though, right?” None of the crew responds. Harkna uses the silence to take in the base as they approach. The building was made of some natural material – a Pelimerian version of clay or brick or stone, even. Harkna couldn’t wrap her mind around it. The shape of the building itself reminded her of some ancient Old Earth buildings, huge stone steps leading to a raised dais. A ziggurat, they were called; though she couldn’t remember when or where they were from, only that they were very old and not of her home territory. She did not look forward to the stairs; her body had begun to ache from the roughness of their crash. She hesitates as she reaches the first of the steps, then stops. 

 ​A deep sigh, in and then out. She feels her feet and the space between her toes, feels the strength of her legs softening her knees. She works the fear from her hips and tongue, and lets her body fortify. “Let’s go,” she manages, breathless. 

 ​Braving the steps seems longer than the journey to them, at least to the captain. After endless climbing, they near the top, and Harkna instructs Conrad to call out. Stepping onto the dais, he calls, “Pelimerians, we mean you no harm! I shall approach your conport unarmed.” He slowly sidles to the conference portal by the door, his arms held out slightly to demonstrate his harmlessness. “We are what remains of the crew of Ship 00159 Pallas! We are of mixed planetary origin, with primary sponsorship from New Earth, and we come with no disrespect or ill intent. We have crash landed on your soil; please do not take offense at our unceremonious arrival!” The conport clicks as if a Pelimerian were to begin a response, and then quickly clicks off. The door slides open. 

 ​ Conrad squints back at Harkna, her face tense and alarmed. She looks to Geltor, who frowns. “This is highly unusual behavior,” they whisper to Harkna.   

 ​“Shall I go in alone?” She whispers back to them. Geltor shakes their head and gestures for Conrad to return to them. 

 ​“We go in together,” Geltor says, motioning over the remaining crew as well. “I say Conrad and I take the lead, with Captain staggered behind us, center. Musa flanks, leaving Dulce and Noor to observe from the heart of us. What do you say, Captain?” 

​  “I’m unfamiliar with Pelimerian combat; I must defer to you on this one, Geltor.”

   The crew enters the Pelimerian base in Geltor’s formation.

 They scarcely make their way through the seemingly empty building before finding themselves face-to-face with a Pelimerian. The creature is tall, gaunt, and strangely colored… somehow purple, somehow green, somehow another color altogether. Harkna’s prejudice overtakes her. She can hardly stand to look at the thing. 

 “Oh, hello!” The Pelimerian exclaims. “I was just coming to meet you. It appears our outwards comms are experiencing some sort of delay due to a recent solar storm. You’re what remains of the crashed ship?” 

 “Yes, greetings!” Conrad enthusiastically performs a formal Pelimerian bow, some odd fold and spread of the body, markedly awkward in his human form.

 “Welcome to Pelimere!” The creature returns the gesture, and Harkna realizes what it was Conrad was attempting. She feels her tension lessen, and stifles a small smile. “I’m sure you’ll forgive our lack of preparation, as you understand our surprise at your arrival!”

 “And you’ll forgive us, to appear empty handed and expectant of lodging!” Conrad and the creature share a hearty laugh, politically jovial and relievingly lighthearted. Harkna feels the knot in her stomach release. They were going to be fine after all. 

...~x~…

The Pelimerian, who they learned to call Stax, leads the crew to a cave-like offshoot one could describe as a dining room. A large table made of more strange material – natural but distinctly different from the earthen hulk of the base itself – is adorned with various trinkets, vegetation, and foodstuffs. Stax seats the crew and asks them to wait patiently for some “esteemed council,” encouraging perusal of the assortment of fruit laid out. 

 Harkna picks suspiciously at the food, while Musa sits stone-faced at her side. Geltor, too, does not eat, but the remaining three happily dig in; Conrad leads the charge, instructing Dulce and Noor in the proper ways to deconstruct the strange fruits for best consumption. 

  After some time away from the room, Stax returns with three other Pelimerians. Conrad quickly stands, and the crew follows in their own time. Another bow from Conrad. 

 “We celebrate your arrival with a small dinner party,” Stax conveys. “We introduce the highest available members of our court: Her Lady Strixa-Goth, The Most Honorable Ba, and heir to the throne, Prince Erliegen VII.” Conrad springs into action, chittering and greeting and folding his human body. The crew stands uncomfortably facing the arriving court – even Geltor, Harkna notes, who certainly knew the rites and rituals, yet who felt wholly uninspired to perform them. They glance to Harkna. 

 “Stay alert, Captain,” they whisper as close to her as they could manage. 

 The party sits and servants bumble into the room, some Pelimerian, some abstract robots or beings from other planets, needling and nudging new plates and cloches, revealing course after course and pouring endless flows of wine. So endless, in fact, the Pelimerian partygoers find themselves… a bit overindulged. 

“So tell me,” Lady Strixa-Goth purrs in Conrad’s direction, “how do humans come to learn such elevated Pelimerian etiquette?” She toys with the collar of his uniform, breathing in the scent of him lustily. They had been at this for the past quarter hour, at least. Conrad readies a surely nauseating response, of which is cut off by an outburst from the prince. 

“Strixa, enough of your embarrassing flirtations!” The prince slams his hand on the table. Ba nods in apparent approval. “My sincerest apologies – how rude the Lady can be! And how incessant!” Prince Erliegen laughs tensely and downs his wine. A meek, bug-like servant skitters over to refill his glass. Harkna stares at its proboscis-nose. She is darkly fascinated. 

Conrad is quick to smooth over the situation. “No need for apologies, Most High Prince.” He laughs through a guise of humility. Harkna suppresses a rolling of her eyes. “I am flattered by Lady Strixa-Goth’s affectations; though, I do hope we were not distracting the attention of other partygoers.” With the end of his sentence came a great, rumbling tremor, rattling the room and strangling the power, presenting as a frustrating blinking of the lights. The servants struggle to steady themselves against the wall as the guests grab at various goblets to prevent their spill. They all seem to freeze, holding tightly their breaths until the power returns. 

“Ugh, that solar storm must end soon,” Lady Strixa-Goth laments, straightening her party jacket, “It’s been on and off all day at this rate!” 

“Yes, indeed,” The Honorable Ba offers stoically, “the Gods are very angry. I can’t imagine why, Your Majesty.”

“Enough!” The prince shouts again. “The Gods have no reason to be angry. I’m tired of this dramatic upset, this cosmic woe; bring us dessert!” 

 Stax ignores the prince’s repugnant demeanor, always thrilled to serve. “Bring out the cake!” He claps delightedly. The two servants nearest Stax break their stoic poses, exiting through a door opposite the one Harkna and her crew entered through. They return quickly, carrying quite possibly the tallest cloche anyone there had seen, setting it unobtrusively at the end of the table opposite the prince. Stax himself proudly struts to the beast, reaching forward with a flourish and deftly lifting the metal dome. Swirls of pink and white, with small beads resembling Earth pearls, adorned layer after layer of cake. It was clearly meant to emulate Earth desserts, though upon closer inspection, the textures seemed… off. The frosting was more of pudding or gelatinous curd, and the cake itself an airy silicone that appeared as if it would melt on the tongue. Stax holds up a large blade with a smile, “To your good health, and our new friendship! May it be long and may it be great!” 

And, of course, the room shudders again, plunging the guests squarely into darkness. There were clatters and clangs and thuds and small exclamations. Harkna grabs for Geltor’s arm before she can stop herself, focusing intently on the gentle susurrations Noor offers Dulce, allowing the sound to soften the fear in her chest. Stax chitters his apologies and reassurances as the shaking subsides, and rejoices as the power resurges. A moment of relief wilts with woeful swiftness: Lady Strixa-Goth screams, her gaze frightfully affixed. 

 The prince sprawls face down on the table – in a puddle of what appears to be his own blood.