We descend into the depths of the ship, down to a room filled with machinery, a few screens surround a small cubbyhole where I presume the creature works. As they move into place, the machinery seems to respond, what look like pedals, levers and pulleys begin to move, despite no discernible action from the creature. Hmmm.

  I pass my hand between the creature and the levers. Nothing seems to change, all the mechanisms seem to function just as before. From how this is working out the creature seems to be telekinetic? Or there’s some attractive force that they’re putting into play. Every device in the room seems to be designed to be pushed or pulled, with the creature’s position as the centre. Do they have fine motor control at all? I muse, curious.

  “Repair _____.” It says, then several sentences I can barely place. It pauses. “Foundational.” It says, struggling to choose the right words. “Not… interface language?” I cock my head. “Only technical.” Ah. I realize, nodding and replying in the affirmative. It seems to mull this over.

  Symbols materialize from their body, organizing themselves ahead of me. The way they’re structured is odd, growing in complexity before looping back, incorporating designs of previous symbols. As if… [They are numbers. It appears to be a base fourteen system with each variant structure representing an increment.] Page notes. I scrutinize the symbols, they seemed… ostentatious, with flairs and structure that suggested the creators meant for them to impress. [It is somewhat similar to another system I have in my database.]

  The fairy like creature restructures the symbols, different symbols are added, and the numbers start to repeat. Operators. I frown, staring at the examples and noting one that breaks the pattern. The symbol shifts and the colour of the creature shifts, as though satisfied. Tricky bastard… You recognized the system? I query Page.

  [Not as such.] Page replies, as the numbers change again, some kind of expression. [The style of it was reminiscent of a point in Chtich history, when they transitioned fully to electronic displays and neural interfaces.] Sure doesn’t seem like that stuck… I think back, recalling how Greil seemed to have some kind of paper or physical interface on hand. [You would be correct, but Greil herself was rather particular about keeping notes and performing many calculations by hand with ones like myself merely supervising the process.] The symbols continued to progress, and some logograms started to accompany them. Is it… expressing mass to us? [Interesting method of communication.] That’s an understatement.

  The symbols continue, until it begins to ask for my input with the calculations. As we do this occasionally some of the crew stop by, watching in both curiosity and trepidation. Food is distributed again. Its interactions with me are much like dealing with a sapient computer terminal, it brings up symbols, and I type. It doesn’t seem like sound is used for this language, there might be some other method of transmission they used between themselves, I’d wager it was telepathic in some way.

  Queries are presented in mathematical format, answers provided in formula, utilizing representations of concepts via symbols that are themselves expressed with math. It’s headache inducing, but everything is pretty much defined. Yet even then it’s not absolute, with varying acceptable ‘values’ for abstract concepts. Talking about how I felt on this ship for example had varying degrees of trust and fear to define.

  I grimace slightly after a particularly taxing conversation, rubbing on my temples. [It is such a strange language. So purposefully constructed.] Yet so constrained. [It can hardly be the language’s fault that sapient life is so full of contradictions.] I roll my eyes. Yes it’s very introspective to converse like this. Doesn’t mean that it’s not constraining and still possible to come to erroneous conclusions. [Not my point. Merely that it is very easy to pick up with a strong grasp of logic.] I don’t think my brain is meant to use this long term, could easily drive me insane even with your aid.

  Finally the fairy seems satisfied, and during a lull brings out what appears to be an earpiece of some kind. It doesn’t really fit me, and the creature moves in close to me, taking measurements before somehow altering the structure of the object. Well, that answers fine motor control… The how of it isn’t obvious, it seems like they need to be close to the object, as they manipulate it to present the side they want to change closer to them, almost touching their form.

  When they hand it back to me it’s pretty much just a band that hooks itself behind my ear. It feels… unnaturally snug, any minor imperfections in the fit seeming to mould away in contact with my skin. There’s a small buzzing sensation as it activates, and there’s a sharp pain in the side of my temple that makes me wince. And then… a comms request. [It is a brain-computer interface.] Page marvels. [Incredibly sophisticated as well if what I am reading is correct.] Another thing with direct access to my brain? Is it broadcasting?

  [No, it acts like a comms device.] At this, I feel an incoming… request, it’s almost instinctive. [It seems to have a good grasp of your brain impulses. It cannot control your mind, the feedback is akin to having another mouth, if that mouth spoke in… hmm.] Page pauses. I accept the request in the meantime, and a large series of the… let’s go with Imperati language, floods my mind.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Parsing it, it seems to be a blueprint of sorts. [Hmm, not quantum, electromagnetic.] Page muses. [There is a user manual included after this point.] Page notes, pushing the section for me to work through. Oh joy… I think to myself, and with a sigh, start working through it.

  The fairy busies itself with the machinery as I read. Page is correct, it’s very complex. I can’t even comprehend the principles underlying the blueprint, and Page can’t either. [If I had access to Greil’s scientific papers and subscriptions perhaps I would be able to make some headway. All I can tell from the blueprint is that it is a communication device and it is not likely to be dangerous to use.]

  The manual itself quickly outlines its purpose as a communication interface, designed to interface with mechanical drone units. The actual commands and methods are actually quite simple to use, using a combination of eye-movements to program in more complex mental commands, it was actually a similar way to how I interacted with Page, only in this case I had to define what specific thoughts would trigger specific inputs.

  I struggle with it for a moment, finally managing to send a comms request to the fairy. It accepts almost instantaneously. [You are frighteningly adept at learning.] It responds, adding an inflection of admiration to the sentence. The lessons continue, this time aided by the speed of the interface, to the point where the real constraint is the speed of my thoughts. [Who are you?] It finally asks, introducing itself as ‘Corona’s theorem of equilibrium’, shortened to Corona from here on. I mull it over, introducing myself as Wanderer, which took the form of an uncertainty formula.

  [Wanderer.] It says, mulling over the response. [How did you arrive aboard the ship? You were not a part of the manifest we were given when the recovery operation was accepted. You do not wear their colours, and you do not speak any language known to the Alliance.]

  I pause, thinking about my response. [I don’t think I can answer that.] I say simply. [I wasn’t expecting to arrive where I did. Just lucky your crewmates were around to find me.] Part of me wondered about that, it was… too coincidental. Oroc had stated that Rifters were often stranded during uncontrolled Rift jumps, the casualty rate from this being the main impetus for the organization’s formation, but so far I can’t recall a single time I was left somewhere even slightly remote from civilization. Either way, not the time.

  [And what do you intend to do now?] Corona asks.

  I sigh. [I don’t suppose you can recommend me a job where identification papers aren’t an issue.] I wonder what the rules are for aliens that don’t exist in the database for a Galactic society. Can’t be anything good.

  [That will not be a hindrance.] Corona replied, surprising me. Sensing my surprise, they continue. [There are a great many whose histories have slipped through the cracks in the expanse, whether from tragedy, shady dealings, or simply poor bureaucracy. You wouldn’t be trusted to work planetside without identification or citizenship to one of the Alliance’s member states, but it is no hindrance to working for the various organizations in the expanse. There are also many precedents for the Voidborne to be granted citizenship, should you choose to try.] It pauses for a moment.

  [You’re about to offer me a job.] I say. [Let me guess, security or something?]

  [Personally I was thinking of salvager. We do not typically require security.] They say. [Usually our pirates give us an ultimatum, we comply, and everyone walks away more or less intact. This attack was abnormal, and we have taken a number of casualties, but the captain cannot turn back, or we forfeit a significant commission.]

  I blink, mulling it over. [I don’t have any experience doing this kind of work. Wouldn’t you require more than a single person anyway?]

  [When we arrive at the next station we will recruit a few more others, and most of them will likely not have any experience salvaging either.] They give me a mental shrug. [Salvager is not a job people line up for if they have a choice. You have one distinct advantage over your competition.]

  I arch an eyebrow. [Oh?]

  [You do not carry yourself with desperation. You have not the countenance of an addict, nor the look of a thug.] Corona says simply. [While the crew fears you, they don’t believe that you will harm them without good reason. Which will be more than I can say for any of the dregs we will find as we drift into the station.]

  I snort at that, shaking my head. [Well if you’re willing to put in the word…] I say. [I might just disappear someday though, can you handle that?]

  [So long as you aren’t running away with our money.] They quip back. [But I have a feeling money is not something you particularly care about.]

  [Not by choice.] I say with a sigh. [Fine, I accept.] I resist the urge to reach out for a handshake. Corona gives out a pleased hum, and turns away, speaking to the captain on another frequency as I lean back to rest my eyes.

  It doesn’t take very long. Either Corona is very persuasive or the captain is very desperate. Either way the Corona presents me with a simple contract to read through and sign. [It’s mostly a formality, enforcement is local, just don’t get on anyone’s bad side.] Corona quips. I roll my eyes, reading through it as I figure out what name I’ll be using while here. Corona hums as I hover over the signature box. [Kalmer perhaps? The name descends from a minor patron spirit of travel from a distant culture, though I doubt anyone still remembers the origin except as a novelty. Fitting, I think.]

  [Beats randomly throwing a name together from whatever bastardization I’ve made of all the languages here.] I note drily, asking Corona to forward me the symbols I’d need to draw. Thankfully they weren’t difficult, two logograms next to one another, easily transcribed. It really is easy to sign a name that isn’t mine. I think to myself, tracing the symbol onto the screen.

  [There is still plenty of time until the actual work, but perhaps we can take some time to familiarize you with the tools of the trade.]