Battle of the Folium Nebula

"Good, they communicate through sound," Alice said, always taking notes.

"So how do we get started with these guys?" Carl asked, turning to one of the other aliens that had decided to remove its helmet. Unlike the first, this one had mostly red feathers, its beak and the scales around its eyes more whiter in colour. "Anyone here speak a language other than English?"

"I am equipped to translate all known human languages," Alice said. "Since you two cannot rely on programming, you should start by introducing simple concepts. I highly recommend beginning with your names."

Red gestured for them to follow, leading them off to the left side of the corridor, where the frame of another hatch irised open. The room inside was about ten meters wide and just as long, the space occupied by a couple of pairs of rectangular slabs with what looked like harnesses draped over them, surrounded by silver cabinets built into the recesses along the walls. The lights in here were paler in colour, whitewashing the room in their soft glow.

"This is either an infirmary or a torture chamber," Carl said. "I don't like the look of those straps on the beds there."

"They don't look like they've got magnetic boots yet, remember," Lambert said. "They've probably got straps in every room to secure things down."

The humans walked in, the aliens floating in after. Only Red, and the alien with the blue feathers, stayed close, the rest keeping their distance after Red flicked its beak at them, probably concluding the humans didn't like to be crowded.

He and Carl leaned against one of the nearby slabs, the pair watching as Red removed its helmet after a pause. Its feathers were a beige in colour with grey highlights, its beak so white it appeared to be made of bone, Lambert remarking in how broad their colour palette was.

His eyes were drawn to the end of Red's beak, were a nasty scar ran from the nose to just beneath its eye, a bit of the iris distorted and bloodshot. This one had definitely seen some action.

For a few, long moments the two species stared each other down. The aliens didn't seem to know what to do, glancing between each other as they chatted in their foreign language.

"Alright," Lambert began, taking the initiative. "My name is Lambert, and this is Carl." He pointed at his companion.

"We come in peace," Carl said, Lambert suppressing the urge to shake his head.

The aliens exchanged another glance that came off as confused, Lambert sighing as he scratched his hair.

"Lambert," he repeated, a hand on his chest punctuating his statement. "Lam-bert."

"Car-el," his friend added. "That's us. What's ya'll names?"

The aliens huddled together, mumbling something while the blue-feathered one glanced at Lambert. After their discussion, the one he called Red pointed a claw at Carl, opening its mouth and saying: "Car-el?"

It's voice was warbling, a bit throaty, Lambert blinking when it mimicked Carl's southern accent to a fault. It then turned, its claw moving to the other human. "Lam-bert?" it asked, its voice lilting with each syllable.

"Yes, that's right!" Lambert said, nodding.

The alien tapped at its metal breastplate, the claws clicking on its spacesuit as it said: "Sha-li-ya."

The other alien mimicked the gesture. "Me-zul," it said, pointing at itself.

"So you're Mezul, and you're Shaliyya?" Lambert said, pointing between the two. The pair of aliens nodded, surprising him. They caught on to the meaning of a nod very quickly.

"Balo-karid," the one called Shaliyya said, pointing at itself, then to its companion. "Bal-o-kar-id."

"Balokarid," the other one, Mezul, said, looking to Lambert as if it was now his turn.

"Is that what they're called?" Carl asked. "Balokarids?" When he repeated the word, the one called Shaliyya nodded again.

"We're humans," Lambert explained, saying the word nice and slow for them, the blue one, Mezul, watching his mouth move.

"Human Lambert," it said. "Human Carl."

"I suppose that's as good a start as any," Lambert said.

"Start as any," Mezul repeated. "Human Lambert."

"Did it just copy you?" Carl asked. "Looks like I wasn't far off when I called ourselves parrots earlier. I didn't think we was actually helpin' out space-birds."

Lambert grinned when Shaliyya cocked its head at Carl, like a curious.... well, bird would. The one called Mezul floated in next to him, close enough that Lambert had to lean out of the way of its beak, the alien looking down its length to stare fixedly at him.

It's diamond-shaped pupils narrowed down to vertical slits, the creature shifting its focus to his cheeks, then neck. When it raised a hand as if to touch him, he gently held up an arm to stop it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyebrows raised when it grabbed hold of his hand, turning it over as it studied his digits. Unlike him, the alien had only four fingers, perhaps that was the reason of its fascination.

"That's my hand," he said.

"Hand," it repeated, Lambert marveling at hearing the word copied so well. It gave each of his fingers a little bend, then pressed its palm into his own, holding their hands up to compare their sizes. Lambert let it manipulate him, Carl chuckling as he watched from the side.

"You want me to take the glove off?" Lambert asked, noting that it was moving its attention to his suit cuffs. Perhaps it wanted to check out his anatomy. Or maybe how his flightsuit worked.

"Human Lambert hand," it said, then nodded.

"I guess you know what yes means. Alright, suppose it couldn't hurt..."

He fiddled with the sleeve, the glove popping off with a hiss, the sound startling the alien as its feathery headdress bristled in surprise. When his hand came free, his skin pricking with the cool air, Mezul leaned in, seemingly fascinated by how he looked.

It traced a vein just visible on the top of his hand with a claw, their nylon fabric dragging against his skin as it moved down to the wrist, where the suit covered his arm.

"What about you, Mezul?" he asked, the alien looking up at him. "Uh, Mezul hand?"

"Mezul hand," it said, then brought its attention to its forearm. It started flicking off a series of clamps, removing pieces of its bracer until the top of its limb was free, simply letting the loose pieces float in the air beside it. Its arm was covered in a form fitting sleeve of grey material, the limb a little slimmer than what its bulky suit had led him to believe. Was the suit built intentionally to make them look larger, or was it just another example of their primitive design plans?

Mezul rolled the sleeve up from its wrist, the fabric peeling away to expose another rolling wave of plush, blue-tipped feathers like those on its head, the dark, cerulean quills catching the light as they danced in the microgravity. The coat didn't end until it reached the nails, which were more like claws that were maybe two inches long, shining like glass when it gave them a little flex.

It held up its arm, gesturing between its exposed limb and his own, as if it wanted to emphasise their differences.

"Yeah, I don't have feathers," Lambert said.

"Feathers?" it asked. Lambert went to touch its arm, then hesitated. Would it get offended if he invaded its personal space? He remembered how curious it had been about his suit. Maybe Mezul wouldn't mind if he returned the gesture.

He reached out and pointed at its feathery arm, the plumes brushing his fingertips when he got close. They were so soft he could hardly feel them at all, Lambert barely thinking as he sank his fingers into the plush coat. Their feeling reminded him a lot of the first time he had pet a rabbit, the plumage was silky smooth, ticking his skin as they wrapped between his digits almost like they were alive, Mezul cocking its head and chittering something as it let him touch its arm.

"The human urge to pet anything never ceases to amaze me," Alice commented through the channel.

"Feathers," Lambert said, pointing at the plumage.

"Lambert feathers," it replied.

"No, I don't have feathers, see?" He lifted his arm up. "I've got skin."

"Skin." It reached out and brushed its fingers over his hand, much less tentative than the human, giving his limb a good once-over and a rough squeeze. "I've got skin."

"No no, you've got feathers. I've got skin."

"I've got feathers. Lambert got skin."

He wasn't sure if it actually knew what it was saying, but Lambert was impressed all the same at its speech. He wondered if Mezul was a male or female, if the aliens even recognised the genders.

When he let it go, a bit of iridescence on his fingers caught his eye. His hand was covered in what looked like glitter, not quite coming off when he tried to rub it away on his thigh. Was it dust? He looked closely and saw that Mezul was covered in the stuff, giving the alien a sort of dusty appearance if he looked hard enough.

"Sir, I've got a situation here," Alice said, Lambert blinking as he rubbed his fingers together.

"What is it? Is the ship alright?"

"Yes. The aliens seemed to have closed the hangar doors and oxygen levels are rising, but some of them are approaching the hull. One has even tapped a fist against the ramp, which I opted to close in your absence."

"We better make sure they don't go try and pry her open," Carl suggested. "Plus I'm hungry."

"We're interacting with aliens and you're thinking about food?" Lambert asked.

"That's the first thing these birds should know about us. Call it a lesson in human priorities."

"I suppose we just go then," Lambert said, leaning off the table, Mezul cocking its head at him. "We need to go back to our ship," he said, then felt a little silly thinking that it understood any of that. "Ship," he said, trying to mime with his hand how they'd copied each others wing salutes earlier.

"Ship," Mezul said. "What is it, alright?"

"Reckon it's speakin', or just copyin'?" Carl asked.

"I don't know. Let's just walk back, see if they understand."

They moved past the one called Shaliyya, the aliens not trying to stop them. Lambert gestured for the aliens to follow. The birds shared a few exchanged chirps, then followed after them, soon catching on and following them back to the airlock.

3

The hangar was visible from the corridor, the airlock doors wide open. If the whole area was pressurised, maybe the aliens, or the Balokarids, weren't planning on launching ships anytime soon, which was hard for Lambert to swallow. All stations should be battle ready after the skirmish, maybe they were forcing him and Carl to stay?

His boots locked and unlocked with each step he took, feeling the many eyes of the aliens falling over him as he stepped into the hangar. Most of the aliens had gone back to their duties, pushing oversized bits of machinery toward the dials, performing maintenance on the ships, but a good many still turned their heads as the humans passed, Mezul and Shaliyya and a few other aliens keeping close.

"Check it out," Carl said, nudging Lambert. "Looks like Shaliyya's brought some insurance."

At Shaliyya's side, one of the unnamed aliens stood by their flank, an opaque visor fixed on the two humans. This one carried some kind of artifact in its hands, its design long and blocky, the alien holding it one-handed by its side. More orange bands of light ran along its short barrel, the alien's finger resting near a suspiciously looking trigger guard, the stock as thick as a car battery. It had to be a gun, but whether it fired conventional bullets or laser beams, he wasn't sure.

"Personal bodyguard, looks like," Lambert said. "Shaliyya might be important. Maybe it's the leader of this fleet?"

"You reckon?" Carl asked. "Guess it's the only one that- aw hell."

Lambert followed his gaze, seeing he was looking at their corvette. The spaceship was surrounded by a pack of aliens, their beaks turned up as they examined its sloped hull. As they watched one of the more adventurous aliens rapped a fist against the cargo ramp, the resulting thuds echoing across the hangar. One had even floated up to poke at one of the point-defence canons.

"I would appreciate some assistance here, humans," Alice said.

"Get your claws off of her," Carl snapped, his boots whirring as he jogged across the deck. Whether he was talking about Alice or the ship wasn't very clear.

"Calm down," Lambert said, catching up and stopping his crewmate with a quick tug on the shoulder. "We can't antagonize these guys. What do you think yelling at them is gonna solve? They're two feet taller than us."

"Who do they think they are? We're not pokin' round their ships, how's that fair?"

"Shouting won't solve anything. The Hub doesn't need more enemies right now, we can't risk pissing them off."

Lambert hoped mentioning their home would get through to Carl. They were both cut from the same revolutionary cloth, after all. After a moment his friend huffed impatiently, removing Lambert's hand from his arm.

"I ain't no ambassador, man," Carl relented.

"Like it or not, we are now," Lambert replied.

Noticing their distress, Shaliyya floated ahead of the humans, chirping loudly at the group of aliens gathered around the corvette. They turned as one, lowering their heads as if afraid of meeting their gaze, pushing off the nearby deck to float away from the human craft.

With the pack dispersed, Shaliyya turned, bowing to the humans in a way that said you are welcome.

"See?" Lambert said. "let the alien sort them out."

Carl reached up and gave it a pat on the arm. "This one's alright," he said. "Thanks for that, Shaliyya."

The alien looked at the place Carl had touched it, tilting its head as the humans passed it by.

With the ramp cleared, Alice remotely lowered the hydraulic couplings, the rear of the corvette opening like a mouth and exposing the bay inside.

As Carl moved inside, Lambert noticed Mezul sticking close by, the man watching as the alien flipped over in the zero-g environment. From his perspective, its legs hung above it as it positioned its head near the floor, Lambert watching with a bewildered expression as its beak inched towards his feet.

The eye on this side of its face looked up at him, the alien gesturing towards his boots, then the floor. It used the deck as leverage to flip itself upright again, giving one of its legs a flex before looking to him for a response.

"You're wondering how I'm walking around?" he asked, the alien cocking its head at him.

"You reckon?" it said, its throat bobbing with each syllable. Lambert tried not to look too shocked, realising it probably didn't really know what it was saying. It was still a little uncanny, however.

"These are magnetic boots," he explained, lifting a foot and making a show of gesturing at the electronics wrapping over the base. "I'd be floating around like you if not for these. Look."

He clicked the button on the side of one boot, then the other, making sure Mezul saw what he was doing. Once the boots were turned off, he floated there alongside the alien, the Balokarids eyes lighting up as it ogled him and his strange equipment.

"Your new friend probably thinks you're Einstein," Carl said, watching from the top of the ramp.

"We've got plenty of other stuff inside," Lambert said, flicking his boots back on and landing on the deck with a thunk. "Want to come have a look, Mezul?"

"You wanna give it a run of the ship?" Carl asked. "Or uh, a float of the ship? That really a good idea?"

"Maybe it'll let us take a look at their gear after," Lambert suggested.

"Hmm. I guess that would be a good trade..."

Lambert moved up the ramp, turning around and gesturing for Mezul to follow. The alien hung there, unsure of itself as it glanced between him and Shaliyya, the two exchanging a few chirped words.

"It's alright," Lambert said, trying to sound as reassuring as he could, even if it all felt a bit strange, this big alien nervous about approaching his ship. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Mezul appeared to make up its mind, pushing off the deck with its long legs, Lambert blinking when it floated over and seized his hand for leverage. He had to bring his other arm out to halt its momentum, grabbing at its wide hips to steady it.

The alien turned its gaze down on him, the hundreds of azure feathers making up its headdress roiling as its eyes darted between his own.

"Sorry," he said, taking it by the hand as he turned around, its large, clawed grip tightening over his digits as he moved up the ramp and to the stairs, where an amused Carl stood watching from the top.

"He seems keen on you, Cap," Carl said, reaching out to catch the tossed helmet Lambert sent his way.

"Go reload the guns while I show it around."

"Better you than me to babysit," he replied, moving out of the way as Lambert led the alien up to the main deck. "I'm gettin' a snack."

"This is our corvette," Lambert said, waving at everything with a wide spread of his arms. "Corvette. Can you say that?"

"Corvette," Mezul said, adding a little whistle right after the word. "Lambert corvette."

"You got it," he said with a nod. It almost felt like he was teaching a parrot to speak, but he had to remind himself this was a sentient creature, like him, its eyes wide with curiosity as it drifted into the doorway where Carl had gone.

Lambert followed after, the room before them filled in with countertops and cabinets, sealed with electronic locks so as to prevent their contents from spilling out. A bolted down table and a few pairs of chairs sat between the sink and the door, giving off the appearance that someone had just plucked out a section of a living room and set it down between all the storage units.

"This is our living quarters, slash kitchen," Lambert said. "Sometimes when we're out on a long mission we need a place to sit back, watch some old movies or something."

Mezul took an immediate interest to the television mounted next to the table, tapping at the glass with a claw, pressing the little buttons built into the side.

"You know he ain't gonna understand a word you're saying," Carl noted. He was by the refrigerator, his hands delving into one of the cold drawers.

"I know," Lambert replied. "But it's pretty good at mimicking, and it knows how to associate words with objects, so why not? I wonder if it has implants like us, helping it understand, or if it's just using pure brainpower."

"Einstein kitchen!" Mezul chirped, drifting over to the table.

"I'm goin' with implants," Carl chuckled. "Here, wanna protein bar? We got apple, chocolate, caramel."

"Chocolate," Lambert said, catching the wrapper Carl threw at him. He chewed away as he watched Mezul explore, the big alien looking and touching anything it found interesting. It flipped at the toaster levers, flicked the outlet switches on and off, occasionally talking in its own language as it marveled. Soon it caught his attention with a wave.

"What is it?" he asked. Mezul motioned at the four seats present, then pointed at the pair of humans, swapping its attention back and forth as the gears in Lambert's head turned.

"I think it's wonderin' where the rest of the crew are," Carl said. "Four seats, two dudes."

"We're a bit understaffed," Lambert explained, the alien watching him. "The Hub hasn't got that many ships, and even less people to fly them right now, so they have to send out half-crewed teams, like us."

Mezul's expression let him know most of that went right over its head, Lambert sighing as he tried to think of a way to explain, but just couldn't.

"Don't forget me," Alice said through his suit speaker.

"I doubt I'll be able to explain what you are to it," Lambert said, the alien looking around to see who he was talking to. "Let's just show you around some more, Mezul."