While it appeared more curious than aggressive, its boldness was thoroughly disconcerting. It even reached out and ran a cilia-coated tentacle end down Aether’s helmet and visor. The little hairs waved in sequence like a field of centipede legs. Aether strove to remain still as it fondled her body, squeezing, poking, and swiping. Then it turned to Qin whose expression made it clear he wouldn’t be maintaining such composure during any brief exam.
Aether activated her mic and listened one more time to Minnie’s synth voice repeat the sounds in her ear module. The Threck’s club patted down Qin’s shoulder and arm. Before Qin could lose it entirely, Aether proceeded. “Ee-shaaay-CK.”
The Threck stopped and twisted with startling speed, ogling Aether with its two bulbous eyes. It repositioned its legs to match the head as the eyes sucked in, disappearing for a second. This eye-hiding rendered the head top a featureless blue dome, save for two nearly invisible slits. Aether almost expected the eyes to reappear inside the two soda can-sized siphon orifices, but they popped back up as fast as they’d dropped, and the Threck thrust both of its clubs onto Aether’s visor, seeking to probe her cheeks, nose, lips, eyes. Unable to penetrate the transparent material, it slapped its pads onto each side of the helmet and tried to pull it off.
Awed by its strength, Aether was lifted onto her toes and struggled to keep her footing. She threw up her hands reflexively, shoving the tentacles out and away from her helmet, and slipped, her right glute landing hard against a pointy corner.
“Ow!” Her mic and PA were still active.
“Ah!” the Threck echoed. Clubs dropped to its sides and it moved its face right in front of hers.
She imagined the salty, fishy smell of its skin. It repeated, “Ah!” once more, and she could see the muscles move inside the siphon holes. Threck mouths were hidden under their bodies where the four tentacles converged, much like an octopus, and weren’t involved with vocalizations.
Sifting through options in the language DB, Aether found and activated the Livetrans app. A little box popped up in the upper left of her view, showing Minnie’s virtual Threck, Howard, standing and ready to demonstrate appropriate body language. Livetrans automatically disabled her mic and took over control of her suit’s PA speaker. Meanwhile, their guest had begun a close inspection of Aether’s neck coupler, its club tips pointed and hovering close, like a doctor moving in for the first incision. Without realizing, Aether had been recoiling from the imposing Threck, and found herself pressed into the wall, feet tripping below her.
Qin, in her helmet: “Should I shoot it?”
“No! What? Just stand quiet and don’t move. And put your damned MW away if you have it out!”
Still fidgety and with an intense, methic energy, the Threck looked down, scooted its “knees” to either side of the open hatch, and faced Aether with its hands held out to its sides. “Ock! Ee-shaaay-CK. Sthaw-ptck tshss-ahh…” It jabbered on like this, cocking its head sideways, popping in one eye or both, arm gestures and body thrusts, bending and stiffening.
Aether tried to maintain eye contact while also watching the Livetrans app working diligently away. Words appeared and disappeared—correcting based on context and gesture interpretation—and as Aether watched the Threck’s message come into focus, she felt incredible relief wash over. Less than two seconds after the visitor stopped speaking, with an 8-out-of-10 confidence score, the app presented Aether its first translation.
LIVETRANS: Peaceful greetings. [Your] bodies and shelter [are] welcome in [my] water. No danger [for you]. [My] water [is] safe from [unknown] and Threck. Where [is your] mountain? [I am] [unknown]. Where [are you] made? How [you] know Threck words?
Aether input her response as quickly as she could, while the Threck popped its head forward in little fits that Livetrans read as “Now you.” It glanced back at Qin.
Aether chided herself for never once attempting Threck language on the station. Her response pre-played in her ear (as if she’d be able to verify its accuracy) and she observed this new synth voice was a variation on the generic Sindy synth, though its pitch range had been extended several octaves higher and lower. As Sindy spoke, Howard the Threck’s body moved, demonstrating the associated gestures.
Ah, she thought. That’s why it pre-plays… so I can see where the gestures fit with the words.
Aether sucked in a deep breath, as if about to speak the sounds herself, and activated playback through her PA. She mimicked the body language in time with the appropriate syllables. “Ehh-skwaw fwips-scay peeesss-CK…” One fist, two fists, exaggerated blink hopefully understood as an eye hide, hip pop, overlapped hands to chest… “Packesheh Aether.” She pointed her stacked palms past the Threck toward Qin. “Packesheh Chin.”
The Threck seemed to struggle with most of what she and Livetrans had said. “Peess-CK,” it repeated. “Peess-CK.” A head cock.
Aether looked over the translation. She’d supposedly told the Threck she was grateful for the welcome, grateful for safety, that she was from a very far away mountain, had gotten lost, and sought to return there. And, of course, their names. The City Threck were known to use names and titles, and the language this one had spoken was 100% City, so it stood to reason that it would contextually receive “Aether” and “Qin” as names, however unfamiliar.
While confident in Minnie’s DB and Livetrans, she knew her gestures (or lack thereof) could have ruined the entire message. Especially given the number of physical modifiers in the language that neither Livetrans nor Aether could incorporate. Speaking during inhale or exhale, siphons open or closed, eye hides—and there were a dizzying number of variables. “Fortunately,” Minnie had said in one briefing, “this is one of those exigency preps none of us need worry too much about. Unless the Threck throw together some kind of superduper slingshot and shoot themselves up here, we’ll never be face to face with one of these people.”
The Threck was still asking about Peess-CK. Aether highlighted the sound. It meant “lost.” She checked for modifiers. The app indicated it was an inhaled word. She played it again while exaggerating an inhale.
The Threck signaled understanding and looked purposefully to Aether then Qin, pointing. “Packe Eeser… Tchin.” It crossed its clubs over its upper legs and said, “Packesheh EH-skinee.” It repeated, slower, “EH-skinnneee.”
LIVETRANS: [I am] [unknown]. [unknown].
Aether input a response and the translation played through her speaker. “Peaceful greetings, Eh-skinee.” She added the Threck’s name to the catalogue as Skinny.
“Peaceful greetings, Eeser,” Skinny replied with much exuberant head cocking.
Aether smiled and then hoped it wasn’t an offensive or threatening gesture to show one’s teeth.
“Okay so this all looks great and everything,” Qin’s voice said in her helmet. But you think you can tell him to take us back up to the surface? Maybe something like we’ll only keep talking if you let us go up?”
She ignored Qin and composed her next message to Skinny. What an insane thrill to be conversing, she thought, even through a synth. Skinny, too, appeared more energized. And, apparently, Aether’s body language and expressions were sufficient for Skinny to grasp her meaning. Who knew if Minnie would be proud, ashamed, or die laughing at the sight?