briefencountersofthefantasykind

[briefencountersofthefantasykind]

THE PROMPT: You have arrived at the next point of interest. You come upon it suddenly. On a glacier, you find plants and other immobile forms of life. (Floating flowers, giant ferns, etc.) Please record your findings. Conclude your log with END OF FILE.

Originally shared in response to https://twitter.com/among_stars_ , the Twitter bot version of the game Alone Among the Stars by Takuma Okada

[CONTENT WARNING: This story contains some body horror towards the end.]

THE PROMPT: You have arrived at the next point of interest. You come upon it suddenly. On a glacier, you find plants and other immobile forms of life. (Floating flowers, giant ferns, etc.) Please record your findings. Conclude your log with END OF FILE.

The flora here has clearly evolved to be highly resistant to the cold. I used my thermoscanner on the leaves and petals of multiple different plants, and they all register far warmer than the air. I wish I had an actual xenobiologist here with me. I wish I had any of the team.

Okay, enough of that. I'm going to try touching a leaf with a probe... [several seconds of dead air, followed by a sharp intake of breath] That was... unexpected. Um, multiple... fronds? tentacles? Okay, Kee, just describe, you don't need scientific jargon.

I touched a petal on a rose-like plant with the probe - the petal is a foot wide! Tiny tentacles rose from the surface of the petal and explored the probe. The whole petal surface is covered in tentacles. There was a brief indentation on the surface, shaped like the probe.

I'm going to try... what the [expletive]? Uh, sorry. A bud just formed on the stem, grew, opened, and there was a replica of the probe tip, same color as the petal, made of plant material. Perfect replica. Is this thing sentient? [expletives for several seconds]

Is that even a mark of sentience? Dammit, knew I should have taken that minor in psych. Why couldn't I have gotten the [expletive] virus instead of Farakh? Lot of good xenolinguistics is when the subject has no hands or... mouth. Oh. Wait, no, that'd be nuts! Observe and return.

That's what the captain said. But xe was coughing and xer antennae didn't look great. If I could communicate, if they are sentient, if they even -have- language, if I can manage diplomacy, if they're friendly, we might have a shot against the virus. Lot of ifs there.

Aileen, calculate breathability of atmosphere. Oh! Finally, something positive. Aileen, calculate time until irreparable frostbite to face without helmet. Ugh, Aileen, disable suit warnings for the next... 5 minutes. Authorization Keyosha 5692. Okay, here goes.

I'll either end up in a textbook or a memorial garden. Time to see which. Aileen, switch to external suit mic. Raise external camera. [sound is muffled briefly] Oh, [expletive] that's cold! Okay, in for a credit, in for a cruiser.

[No audio, but video shows Ensign Keyosha lowering her unhelmeted face into the petal. She remains there for 73 seconds, then lifts her face from the petal, and puts her helmet back on.] Aileen, switch to helmet mic. Enhance thermal scan on external camera. I hope this works.

Geez, this rose is showing way colder now than the other plants, even the other roses. Does it have to divert... energy? or whatever to make things? Ugh, that's like basic bio, Kee, come on. Is anything even happening? I see a bud, but it's the same si.... Wait. It's growing.

It's so slow! I guess I'm more complicated than a probe. Now I wait, I suppo... Of course I have "alien material" inside me, Aileen, I just stuck my face in an adieb ... oh fub oh fub oh f... [A sound is heard that coincides with the face shield of the helmet shattering.]

[A vine appears from Ensign Keyosha's mouth and nose. There are brief signs of breathing distress, before Ensign Keyosha falls unconscious, as confirmed by her suit telemetry. However, her oxygen levels quickly stabilize, and her skin appears impervious to the temperature.]

[After several minutes, the bud on the plant opens, and a perfect replica of Ensign Keyosha's face appears. The vine emerging from the ensign grows towards the replica, and enters its mouth and nose, departing Ensign Keyosha's. Signs of consciousness begin to return.]

I better get a [loud expletive] medal for this, that's all I have to say! Ugh, I'm dripping, but wearing all this is easier than carrying it. Just a couple more minutes. [3 minutes and 42 seconds pass in silence. Ambient sound indicates there is not a gap in the audio.]

All those years my mom tried to teach me patience, and it was a giant alien rose that managed it. Plant time is really... odd. Anwyay, there are my doses! [The camera shows the ensign gently collecting pollen from newly bloomed flowers on the stem of the alien lifeform.]

Thank you. [Ensign Keyosha touches fingers to her nostril and tongue, then touches them to the petal.] There's a language I never imagined. Guess it's the textbook for me after all. Okay, time to cure friends, avoid a court martial, and see if I have superpowers now?, I guess?

END OF FILE

[briefencountersofthefantasykind]

THE PROMPT: The half orc barbarian looks you up and down, sizing you up. “Want to dance or arm wrestle?” she asks.

I take a moment, noticing every eye in the tavern looking our way while pretending not to look. One person lets out the briefest of chuckles, and everyone immediately stares back at tankards, tables, anywhere but at the lady half-orc as she whips her head around, glaring. I sense she’s done this before, and the crowd is not on her side so much as they appreciate free entertainment.

I stand up, all 3ft 1in of me, and straighten my long tunic with one hand while surreptitiously twitching the fingers of my other hand. “A dance, please, milady.” I say as I bow deeply. There’s a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. I gather this is not the usual answer. The half-orc turns her stony glare to me.

Quickly, I make the spectral hand I hastily twitched into existence visible to all and reach it to her as if to take her hand. She gives me a measuring look, and after a long moment, drops a surprisingly dainty perfect curtsy and takes the hand. The crowd sits in stunned silence now, mouths agape, watching us.

It lasts no more than 30 seconds, but it is a perfect execution of a traditional court dance. My dance partner gets every step right while I just manage to keep up. As we finish, the silence breaks into a cacophony of applause, whistles, hoots, and hollers. There is more than one cry of “That’s showing her, Makadi!” and “Makadi taught the new girl not to underestimate northerners!”

The half-orc woman, apparently Makadi, takes a seat at a hastily vacated table in a corner and motions me over, while holding up 2 fingers to the tavern keeper. I make my way over to join her and sit, gratefully taking a tankard from a barmaid as I do.

“Kamiya.” I say. “Makadi, I presume?” She nods. “Pardon me for asking, but…” I pause, trying to manage appropriate delicate phrasing. She chuckles, a deep bass rumble, and smiles, her tusks glinting in the light of an oil lantern.

“How did a half-orc barbarian come to know a court dance perfectly, and the manners to go with it?” I nod, sheepishly. Makadi takes a long drink of her ale.

“I spent a year as part of the personal guard for Duke LeBrau.” I’ve heard of him. Best described as a dandy, more valued for his name and titles than any inherent ability. “I was there mostly for show, so I spent a lot of time watching. Watching as he held court, watching the masquerade balls, watching during council meetings. You get bored after a while. So, I set myself a task - treated the dances like fighting moves and watched to learn them. Watched the bowing and curtsying and realized it’s kind of like the rituals I grew up with.”

She takes another drink, finishes the tankard, raises another 2 fingers.

“You’re the first one that said ‘dance’. Everyone else wants to try their strength or backs away in fear. Been a while since I’ve practiced those moves, first time I did them for an audience.” She pauses, thoughtful. “Something’s shifted for me now, here. I’ll have it a little easier, thanks to you. You have my gratitude.”

I take a deep breath, wondering if what I’m about to do is even riskier than before.

“Do you dance as well laying down?” I ask, my voice oozing with mock innocence. After the barest pause, Makadi guffaws loudly and answers, “Even better!” Rising with now unsurprising grace, she scoops two tankards off the incoming barmaid’s tray with one hand, me with the other, and heads upstairs. I yelp in surprise before nestling into her side. The rest of that story is for me alone. And her. And the poor cleric in the room below Makadi’s as we discovered that floors that stood up to a sleeping half-orc didn’t stand up to a … more active one.