Xephos groaned and clutched his head as he tried to lift it, grimacing at the slight pain it caused him to move any part of his stiff body even slightly. He opened his eyes, crusty with sleep and heavy to lift, and peered around him. The sun was hot and high up, radiant and yellow, and there was barely a cloud in the blue sky above, but strangely, he appeared to be in some kind of huge hole, like a crater, with steep curved sides, the dirt crumbling slightly around him. How had that happened – and why was he in the middle of it?
Xephos cracked a couple of joints and clumsily scaled the side of the crater, the soft earth slipping beneath his feet, making it difficult to clamber out with any dignity. When he got to his feet, he saw a trail of singed grass leading to the crater. Xephos scratched his head, confused, before snippets of what had happened began to return to him. He was a spaceman, a cadet – no, as he felt his badge, he remembered, he was a commander, no less – and on his latest voyage into the depths of space, he had become separated from his crew, from the mothership, and clearly his escape pod had crashed on this planet – which fortunately seemed to have breathable air.
Though Xephos could not remember any names or faces from his most recent mission, he dismissed it quickly as a matter of little importance, blaming it on amnesia or some other aftereffect of the crash, rather than the possibility that they were false artificial memories constructed and planted in his mind to hide his true identity. Xephos peered around, but couldn't see his escape pod anywhere – in fact, there was no evidence of a spacecraft, not a shard of glass nor a scrap of metal to be seen. Xephos quickly came up with the excuse that it had burnt up in the atmosphere, but didn't bother to come up with an excuse for, nor even touch the suspicious matter of the fact he had suffered no injury more serious than stiff joints despite falling from the sky. His brain, swimming with false memories, didn't allow him to pursue these curiosities any further.
Xephos dismissed thinking about all this in favor of a closer inspection of this strange new land he had found himself in. While it appeared to be a simple picturesque landscape on the surface – shining sun, bright blue skies, lush green grass, meadows stretching out as far as the eye could see, clumps of short and tall trees forming oddly shaped forests – it was all so sharp and angular, not at all like an ordinary swooping and curving landscape. It was as though nature here was formed from cubes – like literal building blocks. Xephos did not know much that was true, but he knew that this was odd; Xephos dared to think it was even wrong.
The Spaceman was distracted from his thoughts by the soft swish of a cloak behind him. He whipped around, hoping to look intimidating by pulling out his laser gun, issued as standard to all serving space cadets. His fingers closed around thin air rather than the comforting solid steel handle of his gun, but he pointed only his fingers clasped around nothing at the newcomer. Peering closer at him, Xephos saw a dignified figure, with such a powerful and intimidating, almost godlike presence that Xephos instantly dropped his arms to his side in fright. The figure wore a long dark blue overcoat, which blew and billowed in the soft breeze, with a frilly pale green shirt underneath, and plain brown trousers, which were neatly tucked into polished brown boots with gleaming golden buckles to match the glittering accents on the coat. The figure raised his eyebrows at Xephos, his eyes, like pools of liquid gold, watching him judgementally, making him feel quite conscious of the dirt in his messy hair and the mud staining his uniform, not to mention the fact he was standing next to a huge crater looking rather sheepish and out of place.
"Did you do that?" The figure asked, tilting his head to one side inquisitively, looking at the huge hole behind the Spaceman. Xephos shook his head in frustration – he hadn't understood a word the man had said. "Korrmajj deex?" he said, clearly confused.
The smile faded from the stranger's features. "Oh, yeah, I forgot…" he said to himself, before glancing back up at Xephos. "Doost naht beh arfrard – cest kloas nemen naip. Narca zemen morr Oracan. Shnitz darka Ridgedog."
"Shnitz darka Xephos." Xephos replied, comforted by the familiar language and the stranger's assurance that he meant the Spaceman no harm. He felt himself relax a little bit, even more so when the stranger's – Ridgedog, apparently – features lit up once again, his mouth stretching into a wide beam.
It was then that Xephos realised how hoarse and dry his voice was, from not having used it for so long, and how the strange cold ache he had felt only moments before, which he had attributed to loneliness (or another unexplained side effect of crashing) had now blossomed into a warm fuzzy feeling.
Xephos sat on the floor and began keenly and excitedly talking to his new friend, explaining how he had crashed here, what a strange place it was, and then reeling off the entire false story implanted in his memory to Ridgedog, who sat down beside him, listening bemusedly. He shook his head, laughing softly at his brother, making his tousled golden quiff wobble. "It's going to take longer than I thought to make you human enough to blend in." he said, gazing off into the distance. He held up a hand to stop Xephos waffling on too much more. "Shnark docff English." He said, staring intently into his brother's bright blue eyes, inquisitively gazing back. "Repett jaha – I am Ridgedog."
Xephos did not reply.
"I…am…Ridgedog. Repett jaha."
"I…I…a…am…I…" Xephos stuttered tentatively, "…I…am…Xephos." Ridgedog smiled gleefully and clapped his hands.
As they chatted and learnt from one another, Xephos felt a strange, soothing sense of calm, like he and Ridgedog were old acquaintances; friends, almost, in a strange sense – though, of course, the two had never met before.
Of course.