Despite the lengthy but enjoyable documentary, Clinton had not been not ready for the Core World. Well, he had and he hadn’t. There had been video footage -- a lot of it -- and that had been strangely… underwhelming? Sure, there had been vistas of alien worlds, of species he hadn’t thought possible coexisting in a society he could barely wrap his head around and yet… he’d kind of seen all of it before. He realized, watching the images, that he had been a little ruined by science fiction and art. Sure, the spires and domes on the core world scratched the heavens, megastructures so big they could be seen from space but… well… those were expected, right?
Of course, no amount of art would have accurately prepared him for seeing the actual planet. No amount of video footage would compare to being on the surface, boots on the ground and head swimming. The flight down had been uneventful -- the Sollipsis had a comfortable if cramped landing craft -- but the moment the doors opened, his feelings of disappointment evaporated like water on a hot pavement, and he was left gawking like everyone else. There was a moment of jostling when people in the back of the shuttle were trying to get out, but every single person who reached the open doors immediately froze in place just… to stare. And it was hard to blame them.
The Core World -- names pending -- was a marvel, in every sense of the word. Its sky was a gentle light blue, with a bright sun high in the sky, illuminating the ecumenopolis that was the core world. A city-wide planet, covered not in chrome and steel but in glass spires and domes, covered everywhere in lush -- if sequestered -- plant life. The huge variety of species meant that the risk of bacterial infections was high, so plants were responsible for a rich atmosphere that was filtered into the megalopoli that made up the Core world.
It was overwhelming. Inside the glass domes, different architectural styles -- built by and for different species, Clinton had to assume -- clashed wildly and exuberantly. Some were vaguely reminiscent of ones he’d seen on earth. Some of them, however, were built to accommodate species of shapes and… consistencies that he hadn’t even considered. It was overwhelming, sure. But it was gorgeous.
“Alright,” Evangeline said in her role as away team leader, “ground rules, for those of you who weren’t paying attention during briefings one through five:
“One! Stick with your group. If you get lost, separated or are otherwise spirited away, activate your comms unit and stay. Put. You’ll be brought back and fitted with a cowbell.
“Two! The atmosphere here has oxygen in it. It also has a lot of other guff that you don’t need. It won’t kill you, but anything above a snail’s pace and you’re going to have a bad time. Keep your mask on and your oxy-filters fresh. If you run out or your mask breaks, activate your comms unit and stay put.
“Three! Don’t speak to alien life forms unless spoken to. Keep your translators on, they’ll automatically link up to anyone you’re speaking to but that’s no excuse to go running your mouths. Answer only the kind of questions that won’t get you court-martialed. Be smart. You’ll all be assigned guides. Direct questions to them.”
“Four! You’ve all been told to hand over any liquids, solubles and aerosol containers but I’ll repeat again, if we find any on your person you will be sent back to the ship.
“Five! You’ll go through decontamination on exiting the spaceport. Everyone here has been medically vetted, but if you feel ill, unwell, or even a little bit queasy, you head back here. I don’t care if you have allergies or the sniffles. No exceptions.
In front of the next few shuttles over, similar briefings were being held. Evangeline made sure to make eye contact with everyone in her group.
“Any questions?”
“What if there’s an alien that finds us really attractive?” a security officer with a truly revolutionary sense of humour asked.
“Just for that, Simmons, you get to stay behind on the ship,” Chief of Security Mayes said without a hint of playfulness. She turned to the rest of the group. “These are, for all intents and purposes, civilians of an indiginous nation. We represent the best and brightest of our species. Act like it, or I will personally see to it you spend the next year doing nothing but administration, far away from any window or screen that can show you anything more than a spreadsheet. Are we all clear?”
There was a chorus of terrified ‘Aye!’s as everyone saluted her.
“Dismissed,” she said, and left for a separate shuttle. From where he was standing, Clinton could see the Captain and Hasan disembark. The officers would get a more guided tour, which made a degree of sense.
“Clinton,” Andy said as she gently tapped his shoulder. “Over here.” She led him to the others. Jackson seemed to be asking Petri a bunch of questions already, and although they seemed to have some trouble answering them, both Manderley and Alex Nguyen were listening with rapt attention. “We’re all here.”
“Oh, cool, you’re here,” Alex said, and Clinton was a little surprised that they seemed to be completely genuine. He knew that his little insubordination had gotten him a bit more fame -- or infamy? -- than he’d intended to, but it was still strange to see that some people seemed to genuinely like him. Or the him that he presented to the world, at least. Jackson, too, gave him a smile and a nod.
“Petri, you ready?” Andromeda asked. The alien bowed their head gently, and then walked them to the spaceport’s main building. For the most part, it reminded Clinton of airports he’d been to, even though everything was different. Everything was made out of a material he couldn’t quite place, something between glass, steel and plastic, and there were curves where he didn’t expect them and sometimes angles where there shouldn’t be. Yet despite how alien it all looked, it felt distinctly… airport-y. They also didn’t see anyone else, or any other species, for that matter, until they’d gone through decontamination first, which required they stand still in a room for longer than he was comfortable with. Andy took his hand when the ceiling started to hiss.
“There is no need to worry,” Petri said. “The gas is harmless to most species, and definitely to humans. It is likely to have a cleansing effect on your respiratory system, in fact. It is the next part that usually frightens me a little bit.”
“What next p--” Jackson started, when a flash of pinkish light went off three times in quick succession. “Woah!”
“That,” Petri said dryly. “It is a quick-flash of radiation that eliminates surface bacteria not caught by the cleansing agent. It is harmless and modulated so as not to cause any damage to your optic nerves.” They paused. “And yet it is still unnerving.”
“Was that a joke?” Alex asked, smirking, and then their face turned to shock. “Wait, does that mean you’re actually speaking English right now?”
“Correct, Officer Nguyen. I have been practicing, though Ambassador Proteus still helps me.” He led them out of the decontamination chamber into a changing room, where they swapped out their masks. No risks taken, apparently, and the masks weren’t that bad to wear. They were larger than the average gas-mask, and not nearly as restrictive, allowing visibility of someone’s entire face, which would definitely help with communication.
“Still though, just a matter of days. I’m impressed, Petri,” Jackson said.
“Noted. Thank you, Officer Manderley.” Petri bowed their head again.
“Just Jackson. Officer Manderley was my mother.”
“But you are an officer, no?”
“It’s a saying,” Jackson said with a cocky grin. “Lead the way.” Clinton thought he briefly caught just a glimpse of befuddlement on Petri’s face, but he wasn’t sure. He’d spent a lot of time with the strange alien, but that didn’t mean he was already fully capable of reading their expressions. He didn’t have a lot of time to ruminate on it anyway, because they were led out of the spaceport and into an automated cab almost immediately -- one with large windows -- and flown to the nearest urban center.
Their shuttles had touched down on a part of the Core World that would be most suited to them. Contrary to how science fiction depicted it, the planet had several wildly different biomes, and some of them would most definitely not support human life, from the polar regions that were simply too cold, to some of the equatorial ones that were completely submerged. But the megalopolis they had landed at was ‘ideal for life-forms of their physiological requirements’, as Petri had put it.
The entire flight over, everyone practically had their nose pressed against the glass. Under a dome the size of a city was, well, a city, with spires that pierced the giant glass hemisphere that covered everything. There were birds flying between the giant towers, and there were terraced flats on the outside of the dome that grew fields of… something. The plant life that was visible between the domes was clearly well cultivated, and was all colours of browns, greens and reds. It was like the whole planet was in autumn.
When the cab touched down and the doors opened, however, the streetscape greeted them like a sledgehammer to the face. It was, Petri had told them, a normal street, if somewhat busy. That hadn’t prepared them for the cacophony of experience they were about to wade into. Even with their filtered masks on, their senses were overwhelmed. Non-toxic scents mixed together flavours Clinton had thought were impossible. The streets were layered, never entirely covering each other, rays of sunlight bathing the area in an almost cathedral-like glow, amplified by the spectrum of colours that everything was made out of, like chunks of the city were made of diffuse stained glass. And the sounds. The sounds, of music, of traffic, of alien throats speaking alien languages, some impossible to reproduce, some almost impossible to hear, all mingling together in a wall of noise, music more beautiful than Clinton had ever heard through the sheer alien-ness of it.
“Holy hell,” Jackson whispered.
“Language,” Clinton mumbled, though he didn’t really put any effort into it. He was too busy staring. And they were being stared back at. On a screen, a little display, and in several colours shown in different directions, he saw what seemed to be a broadcast of some kind. The translator around his neck beeped very gently, and suddenly he understood what the screen was telling him. It was an informational broadcast, and it was informing people in the city of their arrival, not to be alarmed when humans showed up. It took Clinton a second to realize the broadcast was talking about them.
Andromeda’s head was on a swivel, trying to look in every direction at once. “This is real, isn’t it?” Clinton wanted to answer in the affirmative, but he could barely believe it, too. Actual aliens, in the hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, and he was just… among them. There were so many more species than he’d thought there’d be, and they regarded him with the same polite curiosity he’d given them. Some with eyes, some with what looked like gaseous feelers, never quite touching him, some by snorting loudly, but all curious.
“This is going to be,” Jackson said softly, “amazing.”
Petri made an expression that Clinton had learned to understand was close to a smile, and they extended a hand down the street. “Shall we? I understand it is the intent of this excursion for you to see some of the planet, and experience… well, just experience.”
“Sounds about right,” Alex said. “Where are we going first?”
“There are many things to do and see on the Core World, Officer Nguyen. I thought we could start by simply showing you daily life.”
“So this is, like, a living area, right?”
“Correct. The buildings around you are primarily for habitation, while most residences at street level are reserved for recreation, such as exercise, play, sustenance and…” They paused, for just a moment. “Shopping.”
“Let’s go,” Andromeda said, and Clinton got the feeling this was going to be the strangest shopping trip of his life.
Awww look at these small town people finally making it to the big city
Shopping!!
Awwwwwww I love seeing how excited they all are
Would love to go shopping there