Miles looked over the reports from the morning as he sat at the desk in the small office they’d hastily installed a plexiglass divider  and rigged it to prevent any sort of biological contamination. They had installed a desk in the center and rigged up an intercom that ran between the sections of the room to help facilitate communication.

The reports gave him some hope. The test he’d set up the night before had been given out to the prisoners, but he had his doubts that they would be effective. Fortunately, two of them passed. Echo, the only female in the enemy force they’d managed to identify, and Charlie, the only other member of the commander’s entourage they’d managed to detain.

Both had deciphered the puzzle by the time breakfast was over. The fact that any of them passed was a good sign.

He looked over Echo’s file. The intelligence on her was minimal. She was assumed to be a concubine for the enemy commander as no other clear role could be identified from surveillance. Like the others, she’d been sedated after capture and had swabs taken for what he assumed would be every possible test known to man. She’d had blood drawn-- nothing she would miss, or likely notice.

Charlie’s file showed him more of the same, except Charlie was assumed to be a sub-commander running orders amongst the enemy encampment.

So he’d arranged to see both of them, one after the other. The hope was that they make contact with those two, make attempts at communication, and then later on have them eat communally with the other prisoners, observing as they communicated amongst themselves. They were rigging up the mess with a series of cameras right at that very moment.

“Sorry,” a voice said, coming into the room behind him. “I had to be at the press conference this morning. Did I miss anything good?”

Miles turned to greet Kia. “Not really,” he said. “They like bacon and eggs, and we’ve got two candidates so far. They’re bringing Echo right now. We’re going to start with her.” He paused. “What news of the world?” he asked.

“I’m guessing you didn’t catch the press conference?” Kia asked.

“I figured you’d boil it down for me,” he said.

“Basically the congratulatory stuff, our men and women of the Armed Forces fought back the foreign invaders with minimal casualties. We have several in custody and they’re launching an investigation into the portal, but for now they’re blocking it off just in case something else tries to come out of it. Apparently they’ve been firing arrows through the portal all night. They’re trying to keep us from following them.”

Miles looked up to her. “Do we even know what’s over there?”

Kia shrugged. “I don’t think anyone knows yet. Everyone was under orders to stay away from the anomaly. I imagine they’re going to send a drone through at some point, but there’s really a lot to consider. For now, they’re just blocking it off and posting soldiers nearby just in case. I have to admit though, I’m curious.”

“That makes two of us,” Miles added.

The door on the other side of the partition opened up, and Miles looked across to see a woman with disheveled red hair and bandages on her chin. He wasn’t sure why he found it surprising that she hadn’t torn them off yet. He hoped it was because she understood they were there to help her. That would make communication so much easier.

Behind her, Sub-Lieutenant O’Neill entered the room in full hazmat gear. Echo seemed to be wary of him. He could understand why. The sight of a human being in a suit like that would make him uneasy, and he at least knew what the suit was for. She was unlikely to have the slightest clue.

But Echo, to her credit, focused her attention on Miles and Kia now. She spotted the chair on the other side of the desk. Miles gestured toward it, a smile on his face.

Echo looked back to O’Neill, then again to Miles, and gently took a seat.

“Ey sora nun che,” she said. Miles cocked his ear. He was recording the session, so he could check it again, but she seemed to lift her voice at the last word-- it might have been a question.

In fact, from the inquisitive look on Echo’s face, he was sure of it.

“Hello,” Miles said, looking her in the eye.

Echo was startled when she heard his voice coming out of the intercom. She looked to him, then down to the speaker. She pointed at it.

“I’assa. Choro che?”

Miles jotted down what he was hearing as best he could, then looked up at her again. “Hello,” he repeated. He put a hand to his chest. “Miles Brady,” he added.

Echo raised an eyebrow. “H--” she started. “Hellow.”

He repeated it again, then again said his own name, but then pointed to Echo and said, “and you?”

Echo blinked. “Andyo, Milesbreddy,” she said, pointing at him. “Sizilen Freia,” she then added, putting her hands to her own chest. “Sizilen,” she said again.

“Echo’s name is Sizilen,” Miles commented to Kia. He looked back to Sizilen. “Hello, Sizilen.”

“Hello, Milesbreddy,” Sizilen responded.

Miles was getting goosebumps. He was communicating with a person who was, for all intents and purposes, an emissary for an alien race. Certainly they appeared human, and everything they’d seen so far suggested they were human, but there was still something magical about being the first person to communicate with a being not of their own world.

Was this then history?

He quickly moved in to establish the meaning of yes and no both in Sizilen’s language and in English. As he’d assumed, na meant no, and he found out that ah was yes.

What was more interesting was that Sizilen seemed to have an interest aligned with Miles’. He wanted to communicate, and so did she. He found that the gestures for yes and no were the same despite the differences in their birthplaces as well. All the while, he jotted his observations in his notebook.

“Miles,” he eventually said, gesturing toward himself. “Miles.” There was no sense letting her continue to call him by his first and last name.

“Miles,” she repeated. He looked up to Kia. “Deka che?” she asked, nodded toward her.

“Kia,” Miles replied. “Kia Singh.”

“Kia. Kia Singh. Miles. Miles Breddy.” She gestured toward herself. “Sizilen Freia.”

“Okay, Sizilen,” he said, smiling. “Let’s see if we can kick this up a bit.” He gestured to himself. “Miles. From Earth.” He gestured to the area around him, hoping he was getting the point across.

“Miles… fromerth?”

He again made a gesture motioning toward the ground and the sky. “Earth. This place. Earth. Miles from Earth.” He pointed back to Sizilen. “Sizilen from where?”

“Where. Sizilen from where? Ekin Embrayya? Sizilen from Embrayya.”

“Embrayya,” Kia repeated. “Is that the name of her world? Embrayya?”

“Could be,” Miles responded. “Embrayya? Sizilen from Embrayya?”

“Ah,” she said. “Embrayya,” she gestured toward herself, then back to Miles. “Earth,” she added, then pointed again to Kia. “Earth.” Back to herself. “Embrayya.”

“She’s picking it up fast,” he added, then jotted the word down in his notebook. Embrayya. It could be anything from the name of her world to the name of the place just on the other side of the portal, but it was too soon to tell which.

“Eyo var’ta che?” she suddenly asked. He looked up at her. She pointed to the notebook.

“This?” he asked. “It’s my notebook. I write in it.” He wiggled his pen in the air above the page.

She shook her head and wore a look of frustration. “Na. Var’ta,” she repeated. She made a motion of his turning the page with her hand.

He held out a single sheet from the book. “This? Paper? This, var’ta?”

She pointed at it excitedly, nodding her head, then gestured toward the desk on her side of the glass. “Var’ta! Ah, var’ta!”

“You want paper?” he asked.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea? We don’t know how their magic works,” Kia commented. Sizilen cocked her head hearing her voice, then looked her in the eye inquisitively.

“I think if these ones were capable of magic, we’d have seen some already. These ones don’t strike me as the wizarding type,” Miles replied. “Besides, the only magic we’ve really seen is that portal, and for all we know some sort of machine made it.”

Kia considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, I concur,” she said.

Miles then held up his pen. “One of these, too?” he asked, making a show of offering it to her.

Sizilen shook her head. “Na,” she balled up her fist and rubbed it against the table. “Agara.”

Miles didn’t understand. He looked to Kia, who shook her head at him.

Sizilen, it seemed, could read his expressions well. She leaned back, sighing in frustration. She then raised a finger and stood up. She breathed onto the plexiglass separating them, misting it up. She then used her finger to make an outline of the two of them. She was remarkably quick about it, yet still drew some of the details of their uniforms.

“She wants to draw,” Kia said. “Not write.'' She started tapping on her tablet, typing something into it. A moment later, she flipped it around and showed it to Sizilen. It was a photo of a lump of charcoal.

Sizilen blinked in surprise at the image. She seemed shocked to see it, perhaps even a little frightened. But then, slowly, she began to nod. “Ah! Agara! Agara!”

“Charcoal,” Miles said. “In English, charcoal.”

“Shar koul?” she asked.

“Charcoal,” Miles repeated, making careful pronunciation.

“Ah. Charcoal. Charcoal in English,” she said. It was heavily accented, but she was picking it up.

Miles looked back to Kia. “What do you think?”

“It’s less stabby than pencils or pens,” she said. “I don’t see a problem with it.”

Miles looked back to Sizilen. Her eyes darted back and forth between Kia and himself. He realized she was trying to figure out the dynamic between the two of them.

Miles smiled. He nodded. “I will give you some charcoal,” he said, making gestures to assist with the communication.

Sizilen understood immediately. She smiled, then placed a fist to her chest and bowed her head to him. “Einya,” she said.

“Einya,” Miles repeated. “I think that’s an expression of gratitude.” He jotted it down in his notebook. He looked back up to the red-headed girl and smiled. “Okay, Sizilen,” he continued. “Let’s get started on numbers, shall we?”