Back from the dead….o.o. Sorry this is so short, but I desperately needed a jump-start for this story.
I'm Still Here, But You Don't Trust at All
Gone. Wasted were the last three hours or so of his life, mostly spent alternating stoned expressions at the utterly unresponsive walls, floor, and ceiling. Naota had tried a couple of the oddly-shaped panels closest to him (ones that were close enough so that he wouldn't have to actually get up and look interested), but to no effect.
He lay back, hoping to return to the void of unconsciousness, but to actually do so would require either a) knocking himself out or b) falling asleep. Naota shifted positions, awake despite his permanently sluggish attitude. He fiddled with the cords of his sweater, glared at the obnoxiously colorless ceiling, and weighed his options.
Oh, wait. The only option was to wait until someone took interest in him again. The feeling was familiar, and on some level hidden deep inside, it really pissed Naota off – mainly because this had happened on countless other occasions.
Only a tool. Like a screwdriver. Or a hammer. An object easily used, tossed aside, and broken. It was hard not to be lame.
Swoosh – click.
Naota sat up. The door had slid open, revealing the ferret-monsters once again. A scowl settled on his face, complete with dead eyes. He braced himself for the expected verbal jabs. The rod, now identified as a translation device, was thrust at him. This time, the one to speak was the delicate female creature.
"Do you have some sort of identification?" she asked, long curling eyelashes fluttering at him.
"Huh?" was Naota's intelligent reply.
"Of the female you are searching for."
"No," Naota replied. Internally, he pictured the rotting picture frame on his desk at home, covered with dust. "But- she's looking for someone called the Pirate King."
The ferret-people drew back, their doe eyes wide. A hurried conversation occurred, untranslated by the strange rod device.
The male snatched the rod from the female, swooping protectively in front of her in the same instant.
"We cannot help you," the male grumbled.
Suddenly, a swift movement had the pointy gadget in control of the female again.
"But take this translator with you. Four suns knows, you will be needing it," the female clucked.
Naota never had a mother, a real one, but he was suddenly reminded of an incandescent, ghostly touch flung far across the dead sea of his memory. Still dreaming, he was gently led back to his vespa, his backpack, his quest. He vaguely remembered waving the rod in front of the two aliens before blasting off into space.
"That childling had better watch himself," the male alien surmised. "I hope this will be enough."
Naota never had a real father either.
Review Response
Madi: As for you, fkuc you, my old chum. I know the story needs to move faster…just let me work up to that.
Travins: Thank you. Actually, your random review showing up made my day so I decided to update.