I’m woken by someone knocking on the wall of the room, and someone floats me a tube of paste. I stare at it. So… can I eat this now? I ask Page, spinning it in my hands. Another tube is tossed towards me. Fluid… Water? I squirt it into a bubble, taking a quick sip. Water… It tastes a bit odd, kind of acidic, but it doesn’t seem poisonous…

  [Yes, a new set of nanomachines have been built. They are disposable, and will be secreted to convert the materials within the food into a form you can use.] Page says. Huh, that’s one solution I guess. Isn’t that a little intensive? [The alternative is to alter your biochemistry, that could be both difficult to implement and have unforeseen consequences, I deemed the risk unsatisfactory.] Good call. Part of me wonders if I should have been consulted on those, but I trusted Page with those judgement calls. At the very least they seemed to understand what I wanted.

  It doesn’t take me long to deal with the food and drink. Waste disposal seemed fairly intuitive… though a niggling sense of unease lingers. The crew member is gone as quickly as they came. I really hope they don’t expect me to be here all the time. I think to myself, opening the door and exiting into the ship proper.

  The damage to the ship is quite extensive, some sections are completely depowered, probably to prevent any electrical damage from becoming a hazard. All of it is physically sealed off by large bulkheads, I just imagine bits of it dangling off into the abyss. Can’t even imagine what that stuff would cost to repair. I think to myself. That said, why bother trying to hijack the ship?

  [Perhaps because blasting it to bits would likely ruin or lose the cargo as well.] Page offers. [And this was hardly a military vessel. If it was not for your interference, they probably would have succeeded as well.] I guess that makes sense.

  There’s no way to see the damage, hell, no way to even see out. Though that’s expected, what would I even be looking at if I were to look outside? Endless blackness, with the occasional cosmic beam searing through my eyeballs?

  Speaking of which, ever since I’d come aboard the flashes seemed to have subsided. Which was good I supposed, might mean they have better protection against outside radiation. I wonder what the life expectancy is… barring violent events like this. The crew mostly ignore me as I pass them, though some of them try to sneak peeks when they think I’m not looking, quickly averting their gaze as I turn to watch them in turn.

  It’s not a huge structure, but large enough to feel uncomfortably empty, a large amount of it seems residential, squeezed into the core of the ship. A few toilets like the one I had used before scattered in several parts of the ship, while it seemed like there was a central shower, a… cluster of individual units within a room. It didn’t look like there was running water, and come to think of it the whole ship had an… odd smell to it. Aaaaand this is why I never wanted to live in space.

  A separate section in the aft of the ship housed what appeared to be a generator. I didn’t linger long, many of the equipment was still under maintenance and the engineers looked very worried about my presence. A hangar of some sort was housed under the storage section I’d been placed in, housing a small banged up ship and the van I’d sat in.

  The ship and vehicle were anchored to the floor, seemingly held in place by both physical and magnetic restraints. Thank the gods it didn’t come loose during the fight, if this thing had smashed into any of the walls it’d probably be a goddamned nightmare. I couldn’t enter the ship itself, but it was probably a landing craft, a different design from the one I’d come across, but still fairly similar. The van though… The controls were quite different from what I was used to, several control sticks that might control gear, perhaps other functions? I couldn’t quite decipher the design of the shuttle engine though it seems to be combustion based.

  Within the hangar itself there was a room where I assumed people equipped themselves, no weapons, but a large number of different spacesuits seemingly tailored for a variety of body types, though humanoid seemed predominant. Can’t imagine it’s easy or cheap to have equipment that works for everyone. The rest of it was tools, large toolboxes filled to the brim with items I couldn’t recognize at a glance, some of it appeared motorised, but not all of them. Cutting tools appeared to be separate, and powered. Bulky, probably wouldn’t even work as a weapon unless you were a titan.

  All kind of checks out for the case of salvagers, another electronically locked room seemed to house the more high tech tools of their trade, a cursory glance through the glass window didn’t let me identify any of it, except what appeared to be small portable rockets and what appeared to be exoskeletons. Wonder what those are used for. I carefully replaced the rest of the tools, setting them meticulously as I found them. No reason to piss them off by messing up their organization. Footsteps sounded from the outside, and I look up as one of the crew pokes their head into the room. They march over, puffing up their chest with an awkward gulp and balling up their fists, but stop a metre or so away from me.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  They visibly deflate as I stand, turning to face them. We stare at each other, and I raise my hands, palm open, with a half smile. They shuffle a little more, and I sigh. “You want me to leave the room?” I ask, making an effort to keep my voice as neutral as possible as I point towards the door. The turn, looking at it, and then turn back to me. It’s hard to read their expression, with four small eyes and a mouth that looks like it was crossed with mandibles, forming an unholy fusion.

  I take a step toward the door, and they shift aside, a hiccup springing from their lips. I turn towards them, arching an eyebrow as they raise a hand to their lips, backing up a few more steps with a distinct clang from their boots. I reflexively reach out, before pulling my hand back. There’s no chance of them falling to begin with. I run the hand through my hair instead, quickly moving toward the door.

  That was a little awkward. I think to myself, kicking off the floor to propel myself down the corridor. Still, I should probably try to get to know them or something soon, can’t let this keep going. For all I knew they might just decide to ditch me on the nearest station or something, then I’d probably really be in it. I shake my head a little. Maybe when they aren’t afraid I’ll bite their heads off.

  There’s a recreation lounge of sorts close to the fore of the ship, a cluster of rooms that seem to cater to a number of activities, including a gym and another with what looks like a projector screen. If I ever get the chance I should probably use the gym. Though… do my muscles even atrophy anymore?

  [It is a much reduced rate, you should still exercise to maintain muscle tone, especially since it is difficult to predict how long we will be out in this zero G environment.] I nod to myself. Something to look into another time.

  The bridge had calmed down since I was last there, some of them briefly looked up at me from their consoles, before studiously refocusing onto their tasks. Some sections of the bridge were dark, with people sleeping at their desks. Others were simply empty, likely because of the large bulletholes that peppered the electronics. In the centre one of the aliens drives the heel of their palm against their neck, probably out of stress and fatigue, their console a mess of red and grey.

  I lean up against the walls, kicking off the ground slightly so I can fix myself in an overlooking position. I can’t keep going on without an understanding of the language, whether I’m dropped off or retained, I’ll probably need it. I fix my gaze in the centre of the room, hopefully Page will be able to help me review the body language displayed, but right now my focus has to be the spoken form.

  Hours in, and I realize this is going to be far harder than I’d thought. My eyes flick involuntarily to their movement, and I’m beginning to get restless, sitting still for hours on end with this kind of focus is agonizing. Worse however, is the realization that they’re using some kind of translator. From the fragments Page and I collected, we’ve puzzled out the skeletons of at least four different languages. Just working out a single language fully would take weeks due to the tiny sample sizes, not even talking about how specialized their vocabulary was, and the way we’d mapped it had so many dependencies… I shuddered.

  Still, there were some basics we could piece together, I wouldn’t say we could hold a conversation of any sort, but at the very least we could respond with more than confusion. From the ‘ground’ someone called out to me, floating up some food and water. I pause for a moment, as Page and I reorganize the information we have. “Thank you.” I try, my voice struggling with the inflection. Hopefully the translator recognized the bastardization.

  Their reaction was fairly immediate, snapping their head towards me with a slack jawed expression. They immediately turn, walking out of the room. Well, they heard something that’s for sure. I think to myself, frowning as I cup my chin. I squeeze out the water, the still unfamiliar acidic tang causing me to grimace in distaste. The paste isn’t much better, kind of reminded me of the gruel they served in the army, but at least there we could punctuate it with wild game.

  As I work through the meal I notice a fairylike creature floating toward me. It twirls lazily in the air, looking both curious and exhausted at the same time. “Understood the _____?” It asks, and I stare at it, working through the vocabulary we’ve made. Page and I make a mental note associating the last word with language or words. Hopefully that’s what it meant.

  “In progress. Everything in pieces.” I reply, carefully using the phrases as I first puzzled them out. Two different languages, but hopefully the translation software they use isn’t too put off by it. It stares, spinning in place, a low hum coming from it. Shedding light as it does it’s hard to make out the shape within. I bring my faceplate up, altering the transparency to filter the light. Within the light seems to rest an orb of some sort, no appendages visible. It’s hard to make out, but there appear to be shifting geometries within the light, not symbols I think… shapes. What the hell…

  “Abnormal.” It says finally. I scrutinize the voice, it sounds robotic, but not obviously so, sounding tuned in some way? Hmm. “No survivors ______.” It muses, then moves toward the door. It flashes once, and it says something I don’t understand. There is a light pull on my person, not quite like hands but more an… attraction? I stare at it, taking a step forward as it immediately continues moving. So… follow then.