/ we depend on you
554 words
War and wastelands, there would always be fighting somewhere in the universe. Raygaard was just usually better at avoiding it.
To be fair, the Trevellites were typically an unproblematic race and last time Raygaard had visited this outpost it had seemed peaceful.
There was nothing but rubble and overcast skies now as he trudged back towards his ship.
Glass cracked beneath his foot and reflexively he glanced down and winced as he realized what he'd stepped on. A pod casing.
Trevellite young were kept in specialized development pods for the first few months after being born and as Raygaard turned his head to view the broken building he was passing through he became fairly certain it had formerly been a nursery.
He increased his pace, wanting nothing more than to return to his ship and be on his way, and he had almost cleared the ruins when he heard it.
His mind protested that it was just the wind even as his body froze.
He waited breathlessly for the sound to come again, hoping that it wouldn't.
It did.
He turned and forced himself to sift through the wreckage towards the crying, using the tip of his tail to turn over bits of wayward debris until he was upon the sound.
He knelt, scales clinking against shards, and carefully hooked his claws under a bit of warped metal.
The crying stilled to a stifled whimper, then went silent entirely as he lifted away the metal.
It was, unfortunately, exactly what he expected.
A Trevellite child, old enough to survive outside of the pod, but barely.
"Hey there," he reached out towards her and she just stared. She was far too young to have a translator implant, too young probably to speak her own language.
Actually, Raygaard thought as he reached for her, it was possible he was the first face she'd ever really seen.
She stumbled willingly into his arms and was still as he lifted her and stood.
"Oh little one," he sighed as he looked around the desolated settlement "What am I to do with you."
She didn't reply and even if she had been capable
he doubted she would have had an answer.
The bay door lowered with a hiss and Raygaard stepped up the ramp into the familiar surroundings of his ship.
With his arms occupied, Raygaard used the tip of his tail to snag a bundle of clothes he'd stashed underneath a console and arranged them in a makeshift nest in an empty bucket.
He didn't think Trevellites nested, but he didn't know what else to do with the fragile creature.
She didn't seem too opposed to the idea as he settled her down. She just stared at him silently, yellow eyes unblinking, her gray face coated in brown grime.
"You're filthy," he told her. She didn't seem to mind.
He was about to turn away when a glint of metal caught his eye. There was a thin band around her wrist. Carefully he lifted her hand up to inspect it.
There were letters on it. A name.
"Nickiya?" He wasn't sure if that was the correct pronunciation, but he'd have to call her something on the 8 week journey to the nearest Trevellite colony.
"Alright Nickiya," he said "Let's get you something to eat."
554 words
War and wastelands, there would always be fighting somewhere in the universe. Raygaard was just usually better at avoiding it.
To be fair, the Trevellites were typically an unproblematic race and last time Raygaard had visited this outpost it had seemed peaceful.
There was nothing but rubble and overcast skies now as he trudged back towards his ship.
Glass cracked beneath his foot and reflexively he glanced down and winced as he realized what he'd stepped on. A pod casing.
Trevellite young were kept in specialized development pods for the first few months after being born and as Raygaard turned his head to view the broken building he was passing through he became fairly certain it had formerly been a nursery.
He increased his pace, wanting nothing more than to return to his ship and be on his way, and he had almost cleared the ruins when he heard it.
His mind protested that it was just the wind even as his body froze.
He waited breathlessly for the sound to come again, hoping that it wouldn't.
It did.
He turned and forced himself to sift through the wreckage towards the crying, using the tip of his tail to turn over bits of wayward debris until he was upon the sound.
He knelt, scales clinking against shards, and carefully hooked his claws under a bit of warped metal.
The crying stilled to a stifled whimper, then went silent entirely as he lifted away the metal.
It was, unfortunately, exactly what he expected.
A Trevellite child, old enough to survive outside of the pod, but barely.
"Hey there," he reached out towards her and she just stared. She was far too young to have a translator implant, too young probably to speak her own language.
Actually, Raygaard thought as he reached for her, it was possible he was the first face she'd ever really seen.
She stumbled willingly into his arms and was still as he lifted her and stood.
"Oh little one," he sighed as he looked around the desolated settlement "What am I to do with you."
She didn't reply and even if she had been capable
he doubted she would have had an answer.
The bay door lowered with a hiss and Raygaard stepped up the ramp into the familiar surroundings of his ship.
With his arms occupied, Raygaard used the tip of his tail to snag a bundle of clothes he'd stashed underneath a console and arranged them in a makeshift nest in an empty bucket.
He didn't think Trevellites nested, but he didn't know what else to do with the fragile creature.
She didn't seem too opposed to the idea as he settled her down. She just stared at him silently, yellow eyes unblinking, her gray face coated in brown grime.
"You're filthy," he told her. She didn't seem to mind.
He was about to turn away when a glint of metal caught his eye. There was a thin band around her wrist. Carefully he lifted her hand up to inspect it.
There were letters on it. A name.
"Nickiya?" He wasn't sure if that was the correct pronunciation, but he'd have to call her something on the 8 week journey to the nearest Trevellite colony.
"Alright Nickiya," he said "Let's get you something to eat."