The Fractal Continuum

[Cydnar Yrene]

“Good moon, Cydnar,” greeted the female at the head of the party. She stopped a few paces away and performed a gesture Cydnar returned. “It is good to see you again.”

“Larisa,” he bowed as well, to keep a semblance of his own identity intact. With a welcoming hand he guided the party to the room’s only other feature, a circular table with four chairs on which a jug of endless water and glasses awaited. He poured them all a glass and waited patiently for his ‘guests’ to arrange themselves comfortably.

“As ever, we have some questions for you,” she too the glass and sipped it. Despite no obvious coolant, the water was intolerably pure and ice cold. “Do you object?”

“As ever,” Cydnar smiled, “I will answer as best I can.” They began another round of pleasantries and back-handed retorts that formed the basis of their exchanges. Though out of his element in place and time, with words, Cydnar held a distinct advantage. Diplomacy in the future was achieved with guns and money, not tact and grace.

“Good,” she glanced at the larger elf to her right and he set his pistol onto the table. “Lugre and Dorn are only here as standard precaution. Though they offer exemplary, how shall I put it? Hmmm,” she stroked her chin, “incentive, they are also amongst the best engineers and pilots respectively.”

“I am sure they have a vested interest in my arrival.”

“Quite.” She rested her hands on her lap and looked around the room.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” He thought to himself. “Though lonely. I will see my companion today.” He left no room for refusal and cast Larisa a cold, but unthreatening stare.

“Oh, not this again…” she sighed.

“You claim we’re not prisoners, yet I heard how you talked to him when we fell out into the streets of your city.” It had stung even he, reminiscent of the racial hatred the Aleran and Raiaeran people had directed at his people for centuries.

“And I told you,” her tone increased, demonstrating frustration, “that we are at war. If a human appears in the very heart of our territory it is only natural for us to treat them as a prisoner of war.” She sighed, bringing her broiling emotions back under control. “I assure you he is in a room just like these ones three floors below.”

Although she gave no sign of deception, Cydnar couldn’t bring himself t trust her.

“These ones?”

“The tower, yes, it’s full of identical rooms between floors two and ten for visiting dignitaries, strange arrivals like yourself, and officers currently stationed away from their home worlds.”

“An intergalactic hotel?” He chuckled at the thought.

“So please,” she pleaded emphatically, “back to the matter at hand.”

“You must ask a question before I can answer.”

“Good.” She pointed to the lithe elf to her left. “Show him the schematics Dorn.”

In silence, the engineer set a small device onto the table and activated it.