Xanqunnes cautiously approached the Setaran. “I am here to assist you.” The Setaran looked up, and for a moment, the Commander could have sworn he saw something infinite dwelling within the bright yellow eyes of this unusual creature.
It resembled a star-scape of planets and flaming asteroids. “Then perhaps you should lower your weapon, Commander,” IIION suggested, a faint smile touching his luminescent orbs. The Setaran’s voice was melodramatically deep, like a talk-show host’s.
Well cultured and easily understood. The Setaran coughed out a bit of blood and rasped out something unintelligible.
Xanqunnes leaned in closer, although he kept a tentative grip on his weapon. The figure repeated what he had said, and the Commander wondered if he imagined things because it sounded very much like the Setaran had addressed him by his first name. He quickly examined the injuries of the Setaran and discovered that he had been shot, not once but at least thrice. The bleeding had abated, though. No fresh blood was seeping out, which meant either the injury was improving or the Setaran would die soon. Either way, they needed to get a move on.
The atmosphere in the ship was becoming heavier by the minute, and he could not trust the environment to remain stable. “Help me up, Xanqunnes,” the Setaran whispered. The Commander’s flesh went cold. This time he’d distinctly heard his name being called.
“How do you know my name?” he asked in surprise. IIION watched the Commander’s shocked expression in amusement. Humans still had a long way to go.
“How did you know his name?” Zhirak’s inquisitive voice enquired from within. “Some secrets we will leave for you to figure out for yourself, Zhirak. Young souls need to grow. Otherwise, it will all be too easy." The Commander paused as he leaned forward and noticed his badge proclaiming his name was obvious to anyone who bothered to look. But he had to ask. “How do you know my name, sir?” the Commander asked again as he gently placed his arm under the injured Setaran’s shoulder and tried to lift him.
“Lucky guess,” IIION croaked out. The armoured suit was a temporary strength enhancer and could comfortably double the wearer’s natural power for short periods. The Setaran was almost half a meter taller than Xanqunnes and weighed at least two hundred kilograms.
Xanqunnes struggled to hoist the feline, but after some creative maneuvering, he managed to lever the injured Setaran out of the melted chair. They began an odd walk shuffle that would have looked hilarious in other circumstances. The muscular Setaran dwarfed the two-meter human by almost half a meter. To an observer, the Commander looked more like a child helping an adult than two fully grown individuals clinging together to move forward. “It is strange getting used to such slow movement,” the Setaran mumbled to no one. It was probably the pain talking, the Commander assumed. “Can you not heal us faster?” Zhirak asked. He was feeling edgy, and although the agony from the injuries was less, it still stung to walk.
Xanqunnes was still stewing about his name. The only logical conclusion he could arrive at was that the Setaran had probably seen him on a space cast on the universal web, or he was multilingual and had read his nameplate. “Who are you, sir?” Xanqunnes quietly asked as he helped the individual across the floor to exit the room. “I am…” The Setaran purred back, coughing a bit of light-blue liquid through his blood-stained fangs. Xanqunnes waited. The Setaran lapsed back into silence. “Please tell him you are a demon from another dimension who has deceitfully possessed my body.” “Hush,” IIION commanded. “I beg your pardon?” Xanqunnes glanced up in query at the limping feline. “Not for you, Commander.”
Definitely head trauma, Xanqunnes concluded. He tried a different tack. “Tell me, sir, where are you from?” “From the other side, Commander.” “From the other side of what?” This Setaran was definitely not well. “The other side of what you call reality, Commander.” Xanqunnes decided he would have to wait to continue this conversation. Obviously, this being was heavily concussed and needed proper medical care. They stumbled their way past the exit and turned right.
“Commander, I need a moment to recover.” Xanqunnes recalled seeing something in the adjoining room. Dragging IIION with him, they quickly ducked in. They entered the oxygen processing room, and Xanqunnes guided the Setaran to a chair. After the firefight, it was in slightly better shape than the previous war stool but still bent slightly under IIION’s mass. Xanqunnes removed his emergency patch kit from his utility belt and searched for external injuries. In the brighter light, Xanqunnes finally could observe his new companion. Apart from battle-scorched attire, what truly captured the Commander’s attention was the golden obsidian Circlet that glimmered with supernatural authority.
When they moved, the Circlet had flowed down the Setaran’s body like some incandescent worm and planted itself on his arm. The strange object covered IIION’s arm from elbow to fingertip and continued to his shoulder. It then split and moved across his other limb. Xanqunnes had never seen anything like it.