Short Fiction: The Envoy's Message

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“Anyway, there I was, facing down a hellreaper...” Nojus swept one big hand through the air to imitate the scything claws of the notorious monster of Glitterwold. “With nothing but my camera drones and my multitool, as usual. I’d heard they were big, but let me tell you, they’re a lot bigger in person. And sharper.” 

The pretty brown-haired woman leaning on the bar next to him smiled, but something in her manner told Nojus she was not listening with her full attention. Perhaps she thought this was a mere tall tale, but Nojus, as a rule, never made up any of his adventures, nor exaggerated anything, because almost all of it was on the datasphere in full-capture. He was no stranger to poetical language, but exaggeration which could be disproved? That might ruin him. 

“I had planned to try to take it on, you know. I’ve killed bigger beasts with nothing but my trusty RSSM. I’d even got the right hunting tag in case I came across one.” This, too, was no lie. “But the moment I saw it clambering up over that ledge, I knew I wasn’t going to be killing it. Getting anywhere near it was suicide. So I started-” 

“Excuse me.” A smooth, elegant voice behind Nojus interrupted. 

Nojus turned around, and was surprised to meet the ruby-gemstone gaze of a Gilhedat female. He knew she was a female at first glance, even though his eyes scrambled to find any solid evidence of this; the species had none of the usual feminine or masculine features to go by.  

Others might be intimidated by those piercing eyes that seemed to see too much – thoughts and emotions, even – but this wasn’t Nojus’s first experience with the species. He had nothing to hide for the hyper-perceptive xeno to divine. Besides, as they went, this one wasn’t bad looking, and she was bound to be more interesting company than the brunette who couldn’t even pay attention for a short anecdote. “You are excused. Can I help you?” 

 “Am I mistaken in identifying the Nojus Brand?” The Gilhedat placed one golden hand on the bar, two fingers upraised toward the proprietor in a familiar way. The portly man picked up the signal immediately and scurried off into the back. 

“You are not mistaken.” Nojus bowed his head. “And you have the advantage over me, Councilor, since we have not met.” This title wasn’t much of a guess; nearly every Gilhedat one ran into in Sagittarius Gate was a member of the Grand Journey diplomatic corps. 

“I wonder if I do.” Her faceted eyes caught the dim light as she threw back her hood, revealing a smooth, bald golden head. Gilhedat were hairless; that was, as far as Nojus was concerned, the strangest thing about them. “My name is Nahsa. Perhaps you can assist me in something.” 

“Unfortunately, Nahsa, I’ve hung up my muddy boots.” Nojus shrugged, barely conscious of the fact that the audience of his interrupted story was getting up to leave. “No more hazard romps. At least until after this war is over, eh?” 

Nahsa smiled. It wasn’t a broad grin, just a little smirk, but it was enough to brighten the whole bar, if only for an instant, and only for Nojus himself. He wondered how much of that winning grin was calculated, and how much was spontaneous; he’d heard plenty about the Gilhedat councilor training to know that nothing they did was ever purely spontaneous. “You are precisely as you seem in the media, aren’t you?” 

“Never had the patience to be someone else for the cameras.” Nojus caught the bartender’s eyes as he returned, and gestured to the empty glass in front of himself. “I might turn it up a little sometimes, but who doesn’t?” 

“There is wisdom in that.” Nahsa leaned over and lowered her voice. “Are you read into the mission of the seventy-two?” 

Nojus frowned. He was, but that wasn’t something an alien representative should know about, nor something that should be discussed in so public a place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Admirable.” Nahsa nodded. “I will say my piece, then, and let you be. The Grand Journey wishes to contribute diplomatically to the seventy-two operation. We need only some way to send word of our coming to those taking part.” 

Nahsa fell silent as the bartender placed a glass of something brilliantly green in front of her, then refilled Nojus’s whiskey. She and did not speak again until he had wandered off. “Convey this notice to someone who can make use of it. I will not be difficult for them to find.” 

Nojus shook his head. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Again, that is admirable.” Nahsa placed a hand on his arm for a moment. “Convey my message then to whoever you think it would be wise.” 

Nojus stared hard at the Gilhedat woman as she sipped her drink. As usual with her kind, she had a way of seeming unnaturally relaxed and tightly wound all at once, and that conveyed no useful information to him. “I can promise nothing.” 

“I did not ask for promises.” Nahsa arched one thin eyebrow. “But now my duty is complete, and I would like to hear what became of the slashing beast.” 

Despite himself, Nojus could only chuckle. “Well I do know something about that.” He arched his fingers back into an imitation of raking claws. “So when I saw it, I knew it was suicide to try to kill it, right?” He swiped at the air in pantomime of the monster’s fury. 

“As you said.” 

“But I couldn’t outrun it either, and it was mad as all hells. So I had to do some fast thinking.” Nojus kept his voice lower than before; this time, it was a story for a private audience. “So here’s what I came up with. Mind you, quick thinking isn’t usually sound thinking, so this is going to sound pretty stupid...”