The Council-floor Part 4

"What is your name, Beanman?" Grak asked.

"Name is... No tink you can spekkit," the Beanman said.

"I think I'll call you Wrinkle, because your face is covered in wrinkles," said Grak.

"Wrinkle?" Wrinkle asked. Grak pointed at Wrinkle's wrinkles.

"All my family have... wrinkle," Wrinkle said.

"Well I haven't met your family, have I?" Grak said.

"No," Wrinkle said.

"Listen Wrink, can you take me to the base of operations for your resistance?" Grak asked. Wrinkle took some time to parse what Grak had said, and then:

"Follow."

"Very well," Grak said. It was about a day's trek, but during that time the sun never set. [[NOTE: Make this a separate chapter.]] It never moved a degree. Grak hadn't even realized how tired he had gotten until he collapsed upon entering the mud-brick building.

He awoke once more. The Beanmen were all staring at him. "Right, hello. Just a nap, let's get to work."

"You have been asleep for one and a half quallers," said one of the Beanmen, "but... I don't know what that is in Traddin time units."

"That's remarkably good Traddinese you're speaking, sir," Grak said, "who are you?"

"It is I who introduced this language to our civilization. I have studied it the most. My name could be phonetically limited to Kimmel."

"Oh yes, I've heard of you," Grak said. He stood up, and sat down again to save head room. "Now let's get to work, shall we? I was sent here to kill the Queen, and I imagine you all have some sort of strong opinion on the subject?"

"The Queen is the daughter of my late brother, the former King of our nation. He is the one who lead the conquering of the misused metal fort," Kimmel said.

"But that complex is no older than seventy of my years old, what happened to the Traddin colonists living there?"

"The King's warriors killed those who remained, though the records indicated that many more arrived on our world than existed by the time we found the fort," Kimmel said. "Nevertheless, it was one of the bloodiest battles in our nation's history. They seemed to have god-like powers, able to anticipate our every move, and their weapons were like thunderbolts that would strike our armies down. The one hundred and fifty men who held the fort managed to hold off against more than a thousand Beanman warriors, but eventually we," Kimmel stopped, "they, wore them down."

"The King died in the campaign, then?" Grak asked.

"Yes. He declared the Traddin as gods before he died. The Queen did not agree," Kimmel said. "And frankly, neither do I. For different reasons. The Queen is deeply superstitious, as she was raised. I am a man of philosophy, science even. I studied the strange machines left behind, and found the computer database. I studied everything I could, starting with the language. I taught the language to others. They still struggle."

"Wrinkle here told me that the Queen wanted to make a space ship. Is that accurate?"

"I told The Queen of the vessels your people use to travel through the heavens. She became convinced that it would be possible to resurrect her father if she traveled to the demon's home planet."

"I can't see how an iron age society such as yours could manufacture a space ship."

"Many pieces of the space ships were left behind, and make up parts of the fort. Our resistance has taken some of the pieces so that her engineers will have to manufacture more. But know this: the understand the computers and manufacturing equipment almost as well as I do. I don't have any doubt they will finish the space ship without error."

"This is insane, you know that right? You're trying to tell me you Beanmen are such good learners that you can assemble an interstellar spaceship with iron age technology, space-age help, and just a few years of work?"

"I do no know how long is a year, are you aware of that? It has been two lifetimes that the Queen has worked on this project," Kimmel said.

"It's a bit of a stretch... What pieces of the ship did your people take take?" Grak asked.

"It is a box filled with miscellaneous electronics, some power cells, and a few assorted lengths of wire."

"This box, bring it to me," Grak said. Kimmel raised his proboscis at two well-dressed Beanmen, who left. They returned some time later with the box. Grak immediately recognized it as a transmitter.

"I can talk to my own space ship with this," said Grak. Grak spent the next few hours tuning the device, wondering when the sun would set, and trying to get it to function with the battered batteries, and listening to a Beanman song.

"You know," Grak said to no one in particular, "I really do like Beanman music. I share a starship with humans. I can't say I enjoy any of their music at all." At last he completed the repairs. "Belief In A Lower Power, do you read?"

"Ctcshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," space replied.

"Belief In A Lower Power, do you read?"

"That's a different language!" Kimmel said.

"Belief In A Lower Power, do you read?"

"James Dorian of the Starship Belief, who is this?"

"James, it's Grak. I'm on the surface, before I lose you, raise to a higher orbit and increase radio gain so I can talk to you longer and clearer on your next orbit."

"What are you up to, Grak?" James said.

"If I'm reading this instrument right, you're about to be below the horizon, so I can't tell you," Grak said.

"Ctcssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh," James said.