CHAPTER 9;
SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS
He shot to his feet the moment his head cleared, and began staring around the room, eyes wide with shock. He looked over at the small -and what seemed to be ruined- shuttlepod, and swallowed dryly.
He had no recollection of this place, nor how he got here in the first place. Yet he was wearing a name badge with 'Trip' on it. Where had it come from?
Where was everyone else?
Trip refused to succumb to panic, and quickly realised that there was a large door to his right. He quickly moved over to it, and, calming himself beforehand, opened it.
The double wooden doors swung open with a creak, and an early evening sky was revealed, a beautiful mixture of reds and oranges. Down on the ground on the other hand, strange buildings filled his vision, and stone paths and sidewalks ran in between the structures like grey rivers.
He took a step out, and immediately felt vulnerable.
What I would do for a phase pistol right about now, he thought to himself, his head beginning to pound.
Trip couldn't think of any reasonable explanation for any of this, and he wished he knew where his communicator was. He felt around in the various zips and pockets covering the dirty overalls, but all he found was a couple of small crude tools, and a rag.
He proceeded to wipe his filthy hands on the rag, tossing it aside shortly afterwards.
Taking another step out into the evening, he looked back at the building he had woken up in. above it was what had to be living accommodations of some kind, and he wondered if there was an access in the garage before him.
He jogged back in, and began searching around the room for another doorway.
"Aha," he mumbled, feeling a doorknob beneath his hand, and he quickly turned it.
The door opened after Trip gave it a tug, and a small staircase was revealed, leading directly upwards into darkness.
Swallowing dryly again, he headed up the steps slowly, reaching out to the side walls for balance.
Upon realising he was at the top of the staircase, he groped around for a light switch of some kind.
He soon located a small switch, and flicked it on. A dull bulb came to life, revealing a small room, complete with bed, chairs and cooking facilities.
"What the hell is goin' on?" he muttered, staring around at the primitive living accommodations. There was only just room to move around, and it was a wonder he hadn't stumbled over anything upon reaching the top of the stairs. The place was a mess.
Clothes littered the far corner, and he quickly traversed the assault course-like conditions, rummaging through the clothing for something to wear. He needed to look as inconspicuous as possible out on the streets.
But how did he know how. whoever lived here dressed? Was he back on Earth? Had the last seven months been a dream? No. he remembered everything up until now. The last thing he recalled was receiving a hail from a new race of aliens. they had called themselves. oh, what was it?
"Mendovans," he said as he remembered suddenly, and located some clothes.
He quickly changed into the loose baggy brown pants, and equally, if not more baggy long-sleeved grey sweater. He re-donned the grubby black boots, and stood once again, leaving the overalls on the bed.
There wasn't anything that looked like a mirror, so he just quickly ran his hands through his hair, which felt in desperate need of cleaning. He longed for a shower, but whether or not one existed in the area, he was oblivious.
Trip travelled back down the small staircase, and into the garage, past the shuttle, and out into the abandoned street.
He swung the doors closed behind him. Since there didn't appear to be a lock, he didn't bother with one.
He walked slowly down the streets, glancing into every alley, and taking a mental note of the route he took. The last thing he needed was to get lost in a place like this.
Everything was unfamiliar, and he searched desperately for something he recognised. to no avail.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He turned in that direction, and watched as more and more people appeared. It seemed to be a congregation of some kind.
As he travelled closer, Trip realised there was a collection of different species. He recognised one in particular. Mendovans.
He narrowed his eyes, and moved closer to the collection of people to see what was going on.
He clenched and unclenched his fists nervously as he approached, the action hidden beneath the long sleeves of the grey sweater.
Trip came to a stop at the back of the crowd, and managed to see over them to what was going on ahead of the mass of bodies.
Several people were moving past, also a collection of different races. It seemed like a certain group of them had just arrived, and were staring around in awe of their surroundings.
Three large figures travelled at the sides of the group, whilst there was a further one at the front, and another at the rear.
Leading them was a shorter figure, with black hair and fair skin.
Trip's eyes went wide as he saw the face of the figure.
"Hoshi!" he called to her, but above the crowd's din, she obviously couldn't hear him.
"Hoshi!" he shouted again, louder this time, and tried to find a way through the crowd.
Before he could find a way through, the group had moved past. The crowd began to part, and Trip managed to wiggle through and into the middle of the street.
No one seemed to care that there was only one human present in the crowd, but with the mixture of races Trip had already observed, he doubted they noticed.
He started jogging down the street, searching desperately for Hoshi again.
Trip came to a stop at an intersection of four streets, and what had to be the start of as market, milling with bodies.
It was useless. Even if it was Hoshi he had seen. he wasn't going to find her again in this mass of figures and alien faces.
Trip sighed, and walked towards the market. Maybe he could find some clue as to what was going on here.
SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS
He shot to his feet the moment his head cleared, and began staring around the room, eyes wide with shock. He looked over at the small -and what seemed to be ruined- shuttlepod, and swallowed dryly.
He had no recollection of this place, nor how he got here in the first place. Yet he was wearing a name badge with 'Trip' on it. Where had it come from?
Where was everyone else?
Trip refused to succumb to panic, and quickly realised that there was a large door to his right. He quickly moved over to it, and, calming himself beforehand, opened it.
The double wooden doors swung open with a creak, and an early evening sky was revealed, a beautiful mixture of reds and oranges. Down on the ground on the other hand, strange buildings filled his vision, and stone paths and sidewalks ran in between the structures like grey rivers.
He took a step out, and immediately felt vulnerable.
What I would do for a phase pistol right about now, he thought to himself, his head beginning to pound.
Trip couldn't think of any reasonable explanation for any of this, and he wished he knew where his communicator was. He felt around in the various zips and pockets covering the dirty overalls, but all he found was a couple of small crude tools, and a rag.
He proceeded to wipe his filthy hands on the rag, tossing it aside shortly afterwards.
Taking another step out into the evening, he looked back at the building he had woken up in. above it was what had to be living accommodations of some kind, and he wondered if there was an access in the garage before him.
He jogged back in, and began searching around the room for another doorway.
"Aha," he mumbled, feeling a doorknob beneath his hand, and he quickly turned it.
The door opened after Trip gave it a tug, and a small staircase was revealed, leading directly upwards into darkness.
Swallowing dryly again, he headed up the steps slowly, reaching out to the side walls for balance.
Upon realising he was at the top of the staircase, he groped around for a light switch of some kind.
He soon located a small switch, and flicked it on. A dull bulb came to life, revealing a small room, complete with bed, chairs and cooking facilities.
"What the hell is goin' on?" he muttered, staring around at the primitive living accommodations. There was only just room to move around, and it was a wonder he hadn't stumbled over anything upon reaching the top of the stairs. The place was a mess.
Clothes littered the far corner, and he quickly traversed the assault course-like conditions, rummaging through the clothing for something to wear. He needed to look as inconspicuous as possible out on the streets.
But how did he know how. whoever lived here dressed? Was he back on Earth? Had the last seven months been a dream? No. he remembered everything up until now. The last thing he recalled was receiving a hail from a new race of aliens. they had called themselves. oh, what was it?
"Mendovans," he said as he remembered suddenly, and located some clothes.
He quickly changed into the loose baggy brown pants, and equally, if not more baggy long-sleeved grey sweater. He re-donned the grubby black boots, and stood once again, leaving the overalls on the bed.
There wasn't anything that looked like a mirror, so he just quickly ran his hands through his hair, which felt in desperate need of cleaning. He longed for a shower, but whether or not one existed in the area, he was oblivious.
Trip travelled back down the small staircase, and into the garage, past the shuttle, and out into the abandoned street.
He swung the doors closed behind him. Since there didn't appear to be a lock, he didn't bother with one.
He walked slowly down the streets, glancing into every alley, and taking a mental note of the route he took. The last thing he needed was to get lost in a place like this.
Everything was unfamiliar, and he searched desperately for something he recognised. to no avail.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He turned in that direction, and watched as more and more people appeared. It seemed to be a congregation of some kind.
As he travelled closer, Trip realised there was a collection of different species. He recognised one in particular. Mendovans.
He narrowed his eyes, and moved closer to the collection of people to see what was going on.
He clenched and unclenched his fists nervously as he approached, the action hidden beneath the long sleeves of the grey sweater.
Trip came to a stop at the back of the crowd, and managed to see over them to what was going on ahead of the mass of bodies.
Several people were moving past, also a collection of different races. It seemed like a certain group of them had just arrived, and were staring around in awe of their surroundings.
Three large figures travelled at the sides of the group, whilst there was a further one at the front, and another at the rear.
Leading them was a shorter figure, with black hair and fair skin.
Trip's eyes went wide as he saw the face of the figure.
"Hoshi!" he called to her, but above the crowd's din, she obviously couldn't hear him.
"Hoshi!" he shouted again, louder this time, and tried to find a way through the crowd.
Before he could find a way through, the group had moved past. The crowd began to part, and Trip managed to wiggle through and into the middle of the street.
No one seemed to care that there was only one human present in the crowd, but with the mixture of races Trip had already observed, he doubted they noticed.
He started jogging down the street, searching desperately for Hoshi again.
Trip came to a stop at an intersection of four streets, and what had to be the start of as market, milling with bodies.
It was useless. Even if it was Hoshi he had seen. he wasn't going to find her again in this mass of figures and alien faces.
Trip sighed, and walked towards the market. Maybe he could find some clue as to what was going on here.