Perils of Travel

They say that any crash you walk away from is a good one. I have no idea who the ‘they’ in this are. I have no idea what it means when the crash you walk away from was impossible. Is impossible.

I stagger free of wreckage. Unscratched. Unscarred. In less than four days I have escaped Home, possibly because of some weird entity I barely understand, escaped prison at Osalax Station, stolen a semi-experimental spacecraft capable of short-term space jumps from inside a station hangar without damaging local space, survived piloting the ship while being unable to properly access the controls and then surviving the sudden inexplicable planetfall on...

I had no idea where I was. A jungle, of vast translucent blue leaves, yellow trunks and yellow-green moss at the ground covering. Slightly spongey underfoot, the air smelling of citrus. Ship had crashed here; I had no idea why. I had less idea how I’d survived, unless some facet of ship had involved a shield solely for the occupants.

Not being able to know that terrified me. I’d spent most of my life with my parents at Home. One of the least civilized worlds in several galaxies, by choice. There were some medbots. Nothing else of modern technology able to enter or leave the star system: everyone living there doing penance or hiding. I knew enough about my parents to know they’d been doing both. I was Sixteen: their last child, whose genetic gifts were intended for other things than war. I know when people are lying to me. That’s it, as far as I know.

And somehow Home stripped away the ability to interface with technology. The entire galactic Net, the deeper intergalatic Weave: the wealth of information and knowledge and I had no way to interface with it. No one had ever left home until me. All I know is that Home didn’t want to be forgotten. And the alien on Home who helped me solve a murder promised a way off home. And delivered.

Those were facts. What was also a fact was that I should be dead. Sneaking off of Osalax Station could just have been the universe owing me luck. Surviving the crash of Ship was far beyond that, to say nothing of landing on a world with a breathable atmosphere and nothing having tried to kill me yet. I walk slowly through the jungle, and I can’t shake the feeling that the trees are parting for me. That I’m being watched.

And something is pulling at me. A feeling that isn’t a feeling as much as a need. Somethng is calling me through alien jungle. I walk slowly. I should be dead. I am not dead. I have no idea what is going on. Did my parents change me more than they admitted? Did Home change me? The creature that let me leave? I set each aside slowly as I walk, the forest giving way to rolling green-brown hills and finally a small outpost. Human settlement, at least in part, and a star port fit only for small craft.

I have basic clothing, nothing like a weapon, no way to get information about the settlement. I take a deep breath and walk slowly toward it.

A girl emerges from a small house at the edge of the settlement, spotting me. She has at least one weapon and impact armour despite an age I’d estimate at ten. Barring rejuvenation treatments of a more unusual nature. She walks toward me as I stop, waving one hand in the air. Slows. Keeps walking, a small energy pistol visible in one hand.

“The scan isn’t working on you. Why?” she snaps.

I shrug. “I have no idea. I could be dead, but I rather think being dead would be more interesting.”

She considers that, aiming the pistol at my torso. “You have a name?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’re not sixteen, are you?”

“I was my parents sixteenth child; I’m seventeen, if you must know.”

“You seem older. I’m Jia.” The girl puts her weapon away. “You from the crashed ship?”

I nod.

She looks me over, eyes narrowing. “And alive without injury?” she mutters.

“I can’t explain it either.”

Jia jumps. “You know Xiong?”

I pause. She’s speaking her local dialect; I definitely had no business knowing it, but I’m hearing it as though it was galactic Standard. “... so it would seem. Something very strange is going on.”

“I noticed.” And she draws her weapon again, aims and fires at my chest.

I dive to the side at her movement; I’m quick. My parents built that into me too, but the weapon still fires and

something

the energy beam strikes my right shoulder

only it does not

there is a deep smell of citrus, of leaves, of forest about me

and the energy dissipates.

“What was –.” Jia aims again.

“Stop.” And she stops dead at the edge to my voice. I stand, slowly. Jia doesn’t move, her eyes wide. I told her to stop, and she did.

“I – move. Be free?” I don’t think it’s the words as much as the intent, but wind blows around us as though the world let out a breath.

Jia staggers back, spins, and runs. Not firing at me again. Just running as fast as she can toward her home.

I don’t follow. I have no idea what is going on. Forests don’t protect random people. And I’d have wagered good credits that Jia didn’t have anywhere near enough tech in her for someone to take over her body like that. I don’t know what I did. I walk back toward the forest. This isn’t safe. Whatever is happening is real, but can’t be real. Shouldn’t be real. I spoke, and it wasn’t Jia. It was as though the world was listening to me. As though it is, all around me. Waiting. Observing.

Needing.

Wanting.

But I have no idea what it wants. And no clue how to help it.

How do you help anyone when you have no idea what is happening to you?