Page 14 of Nixx
We quietly digest the fruit that we shared, as well as a protein ration in a bag. For the moment, our research has not been very fruitful, even if we have found other “coconuts.”
Marc and David walk along the shoreline going north, hoping to see fish along the edge or shellfish on the beach. Ferdinand inspects a group of bushes further south, he thinks he has seen something crawling around and wants to make sure what it is with the handheld scanner. The twins stay with Eva and me.
We drew on the sand a schematic plan of our walk the day before. We try to grid the area methodically. For the moment, we inspected the sea and the beaches going south, a forest going west, and we saw in the background of this forest, red-brown mountains. We should go back to the mountainside when Gregory has recovered. For the moment, we stay close to our camp.
***
The sound of wings makes us raise our heads. And there, the unthinkable; four humanoid beings, but equipped with powerful wings, arrive in the creek where we are sheltered.
Here is a clear answer to our questions; we are not alone in this world! Moreover, they are dressed in a kind of leather loincloth and carry a sword at the belt and a crossbow sticking out of their back. They are thus a minimum evolved, even if they are very far from our technological level.
During our voyages of interstellar exploration, the procedures are clear during contact with beings endowed with reason; to proceed with a peaceful approach and to privilege dialogue over conflict. To achieve this, we have all been equipped with a linguistic brain implant. It analyzes each new word heard, couples it with knowledge, and can allow us to understand and start speaking from two thousand words heard. Its interface links with what we have identified or understood. In short, if an individual speaks normally with another, we should be able to speak a few words, very quickly and understand and respond to him within a day. It takes longer, of course, if that person has very little vocabulary.
As we watch these "angels" descend toward us, the one in front, with the dull gray wings, draws his crossbow. His reaction is common; in all the worlds we have visited, the indigenous people are afraid of what they do not know. That is why the procedure specifies that we must remain calm and display a serene and peaceful air.
But we are totally taken by surprise as the gray angel (I should say the evil angel), shoots several times at Ferdinand, who collapses next to the bush where he was. Then drawing his sword with his other hand, he slits Yannis’s and Yohan's throats before they make a single move.
The horror overwhelms me! We escaped a crash, but it looks like we were not going to escape from this madman who kills without question. Two of the winged beings also drew their swords and put them under David’s and Marc's chins, alerted by Eva's screams.
An older winged man with gray wings and black tips seems unhappy with the situation and argues strongly with the one who killed our companions. But the latter steps forward and knocks out Eva with a violent punch to the head.
It's too much for me. Too much tension, too much pain, too much horror. I rush toward him who has landed on the ground and seeing his chest gorged with the blood of my friends, I wheel him with punches, showering him with insults.
“What kind of bad angel are you? Dirty bastard! Why? Just tell me WHY!”
With a single blow of his redeployed wings, he rises a meter above the ground and violently pushes me back. I crash heavily to the ground and as I stand up, he raises his still-reddened sword to decapitate me.
Just as I think my time has come, something seems to be holding his arm and a nervous twitch distorts his face.
I hear another being land on my back with a great noise of wings and speak to my torturer in a dry tone. The ugly one doesn't move anymore, having postponed my execution, in a disagreement with his superior it seems. I prefer not to take my eyes off the ugly one for the moment, as long as his dripping sword is still out and far too close to me.
He is talking to his boss, whom I can feel behind my back, as well as to the older one who didn't seem to agree with the gratuitous killing. The tone rises, but the moment of savagery seems to have passed.
Girl, it looks like you came pretty close this time!
I turn to the deep voice at my back and meet a beautiful golden gaze. My God, it's much worse than that! This guy is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. He must be about two meters tall, with jet-black hair down to his shoulders, and wings of the same color. He wears only a leather loincloth but has a deliciously sculpted body. And above all, his liquid gold gaze fixed on me is of frightening intensity. A magnificent dark angel! And I have no idea what his intentions are toward us.
The ugly one questions him again in a vehement tone and the answer must not please him, because he sheathes his soiled sword and flies away brutally.
“Who are you? What do you call yourself? What are you doing in my world, you and your friends?” asks the dark angel with a deep and velvety voice.
I don't understand a word at the moment. The brain implant has begun its work of classifying and analyzing a new indigenous language, but for the time being, it's pitch black. I shake my head in incomprehension and answer him.
“Sorry, I don't understand what you're saying, but most importantly, don't stop talking.”
That's right girl, try to convince yourself it's for the sake of the implant rather than to hear his deep, velvety voice.
I interrupt myself and join my friend who has regained consciousness.
“Damn, that winged jerk gave you quite a bump! I'm checking to make sure you don't have any other trauma, but that seems to be it. You're going to get a bad headache out of this one.”
I see out of the corner of my eye my friends Marc and David making the introductions, strictly following protocol. Nixx . . . the dark angel is called Nixx. He points to the bodies of the twins in a distressed tone. Sadness grips my heart once again. How absurd to have lost two of our own again, when there was no reason for it.
Marc points out to me behind a grove the body of Ferdinand, whom I had not seen. I rush over even though the three arrows sticking out of his chest leave little room for hope.
And a miracle, Ferdinand is still breathing. His pulse is weak, but as long as his heart beats, there is hope. I call Marc: “He is alive. We have to transport him immediately to Sarc-11.”
We are going to take Greg out, who is out of danger now. We must place Ferdinand inside without delay, as long as the charge of the device is sufficient to regenerate the vital functions.
