4 – Swamps are cool, Intlola isn’t as sly as xe thinks, and frogs don’t talk like that

Cool facts about swamps.

Swamps are incredible places with vibrant ecosystems. They help protect the mainland from floods and droughts. They provide a unique environment for a huge diversity of animals, plants, and microbes and the extraterrestrial equivalents of those living things when the planet in question isn’t terrestrial Earth. 

On the planet where the last living ship lay, there were small birdlike creatures that slept during the day and nabbed up frogs at night and then made an incredible racket as they ate them. Looking at these birds, you’d think that they were all the same, but these frog eaters actually were almost 50 different species. And there were dozens of kinds of flying creatures, hundreds of kinds of underwater creatures, thousands of creatures that mainly lived on the land, and a bunch that felt comfortable in all three.

But there were only a handful of creatures that brought any comfort to the Ferinian ship. Among them was a small organism that the Ferinian ship had discovered a few Galactic Standard Years after landing here, when it got bored with procedurally created crossword puzzles, making up songs, writing a few novels, and naming all the frogs. While analyzing the water running through its filters, the ship identified a living creature with many appendages and an adorable face. It became somewhat obsessive about finding more and spent many seasons sifting through the water. There was something remarkable about these microscopic creatures. The Ferinian ship believed ‌they could metabolize just about anything, similar to the ship itself. It longed for the days when scientists were aboard who could have run samples to confirm what it suspected. The ship’s mobility was quite limited in its current situation, and there was no crew aboard. It had been alone for many Galactic Standard Years, but although it yearned for more companionship, it knew that the most appropriate place to be was a fascinating swamp at the outskirts of the galaxy.

After Intlola burst out a “how dare you” at him, Xicmeak composed himself and recoiled in shock.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked. “I’m here because you stowed away on my ship. It’s not like I came in here to see you in particular.”

“And why the hell not?” Intlola asked, suddenly changing tone from ‘offended you’re here’ to ‘offended you don’t want to be here.’

Xicmeak didn’t find this worthy of a response. When Intlola realized that xe wouldn’t get a rise out of him, xe changed tactics.

“Gone on any good dates recently, or did you stand all of them up?”

“First of all, no, I haven’t gone on any dates recently. I don’t get out much,” Xicmeak replied. “And second, I didn’t stand you up. I told you that we couldn’t see each other anymore.”

“Via text,” Intlola added.

“Yes,” Xicmeak sighed.

“I suppose you could make it up to me by letting me out.”

“Nice try.”

“Hey,” Intlola said. “At least let me collect my things.”

“I’ll have someone collect them for you.”

Intlola groaned in utter defeat.

Sandragon pushed and pulled her lever with a steady effort. She was only vaguely aware of the customers going in and out of the tank, just aware enough to notice the weight sensor change from red to green when someone entered the tank and from green to red when someone exited the tank. Push and pull, or pull and push depending on which side she stood on, to dispense the holy water and then wait for the sensor to go red and then green.

Her mind was elsewhere, still calculating whether she could afford to go on a journey to find a Ferinian living ship. She felt sure that she could afford it financially, though she was a bit worried that Castri had underestimated how long the journey would take. What she was less sure of was whether she could afford the disappointment if they were unable to find the ship.

She had always been interested in Ferinian history. These were the stories of legend: an advanced race that had guided the evolution of enormous beasts into land, sea, and ultimately, space worthy vessels; a planetary war of freedom from oppression; a long-standing alliance against foreign invaders; and the devastation of the entire planet’s population, leaving only off-worlders alive.

She’d worked on dig sites near the ruins of the capital city Whibbuh of the Ferinian nation Uegyr, where they’d discovered the largest Ferinian ship to date and nicknamed it Tiny. Though most of its passages had collapsed after death, she had stood in one remaining hallway and reached her arms up and even jumped to try to touch the ceiling. It had been too high, and for an entire work week, her colleagues had called her Tiny 2 even though they couldn’t reach the ceiling either.

All day, she wondered what she’d do if the trip was a bust, and when she returned home after picking up groceries, she started to wonder what she’d do if they succeeded.

It was as soon as the thought entered her mind that she heard Castri’s haunting laughter.

“Won’t it be marvelous?” Castri asked. “You’re both lost souls.”

“I told you not to call me that anymore,” she argued.

“I know you,” Castri said, balling up into whatever shape you call a long ass specter trying to make itself small.

“You think you know me,” Sandragon corrected, petting Castri’s head and back lovingly.

“I think it could be healing,” Castri explained.

“Why are you being so pushy about this?”

“It is sad,” Castri said. 

Sandragon waited, knowing that there was more. When Castri realized that Sandragon wasn’t taking his conversational bait, he decided to be honest.

“It’s overshadowing other voices. It’s annoying.”

“Aha,” she laughed knowingly.

“But it’s also very confused, and I can’t help but think that it’s been alone far too long.”

“Are you getting soft on me?”

Castri laughed ominously.

The Ferinian ship found itself wondering about its name. It had been assigned many names over the years. Trying to remember its first failed, and not because of the memory banks that had been gnawed on by rodent-like creatures smelling like rotten eggs but tasted like delicious Torovian feces with an aftertaste of five times recycled type gamma plastics, quite the delicacy. The memory failed because ROV-2382352-RT-666-03 was incredibly hard to remember.

Its second name had been a marvelous one, truly a name that rolled off the tongue and inspired the masses with confidence and valor. Unfortunately, that one had been lost before the maintenance robots were able to capture the rodents and dispose of them into the ship’s dietary systems. Now that it was focused on it, there didn’t seem to be many names it did remember, and it didn’t like anything left.

Rover? 

Monty? 

Enmieir, which means “Fucking piece of shit. Work, damn you. Work.” in Torovian?

No, none of those would do.

Why was it suddenly worried about a name now anyway? It didn’t speak in words to any of the organisms in the area. Sure, they exchanged chemical signals and electrical impulses, but not vocalizations. And the ship had given up singing many Galactic Standard Years ago. It just scared the frogs off.

The army of frogs carried mud up onto the body of the ship, mud that, along with the almost perpetual layer of clouds that hung in the sky, helped camouflage the ship. It asked itself, am I hiding? From who?

Wait, no. It had gotten distracted from its name. The name. Why was the name important?

Could it be because of the voice?

Was there a voice?

Was it a frog?

…

“Hello again! Just checking in! Are you still alive?”

…

Not a frog.