Beyond the End of the World, Lokians 1

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

In an effort to calm his nerves and drown his sorrows, Swain went to the weapons' lab, an entire deck of the Carrier. Thewls there were kind and patient, explaining everything he needed to know to perform repairs himself. An engineer showed him a hologram.

"It's a magnetic field containing photons," the engineer started. "Essentially, it works like a windshield in which two panes of glass sandwich a thin sheet of plastic. In this case, two magnetic fields sandwich a sheet of photons. The fields arrange the photons in a particular way to prevent the passage of subatomic particles."

"Here, let me show you how to retrofit your gear," the armorer said as he nabbed some Human equipment.

Together, they replaced the battle damaged plating from Swain's suit with an Element-115 alloy. Oddly, the Thewl word for it sounded like a baby choking on a fur ball, so Swain jokingly called it Swainium, which to his surprise, they liked. Swainium plates were lighter, more durable, and slightly more flexible, which gave the big man an idea—fashion bullets from the material to refill the Human crew's magazines.

Since Thewlian guns were too wide to be carried by Humans, and creating smaller ones took a great amount of time, new ammunition was a simpler solution. After a thorough examination of Thewlian technology, Swain retired to his sleeping quarters.

The rest of the crew was already sleeping. They had been onboard for over nine hours by then, not a long time for Phoenix Crew, but recent events had left them emotionally exhausted. Even Adams and Franklin napped. Nightmares awakened some of the crew while others only tossed and turned.

Zakowski, who was an early riser anyway, rolled out of bed and marched for the mess hall. When he finally found it, he snagged a tray and piled on all kinds of weird looking foods. DeReaux and Fitzpatrick joined him by the time he sat down.

"It seems none of us are sleeping well, eh," he asked.

"God, what did I grab? What is this," Zakowski chuckled.

DeReaux sighed, "Eez not French koo-zeen." He pulled a fork from a pack and stuck it into Zak's food. It looked like brown mashed potatoes. Surprised by the flavor, he crinkled his face and said, "Oh, it tastes like fried apples, actually. It's not too bad."

Zakowski then realized he didn't bring his utensils. Shaking his head, DeReaux went to the Thewl cook and returned with plates for himself, Fitzpatrick, and Day who stumbled in looking disheveled. The three of them stared at their friend, who had resigned himself to an immense, alien spoon as long as his forearm and nearly as thick. They smiled, ate, and talked about their training, the mission, Adams and Franklin, the Thewls, and the Lokians.

"So, this is all pretty fucked up, am I right," Fitzpatrick remarked.

"It's something. I don't even know where to begin," Zakowski chimed in.

DeReaux gave him a sideways glance. The trouble Zakowski was having with his spoon was too funny.

"You can begin by eating with your fingers instead of trying to navigate that thing into your mouth," DeReaux joked.

"That's not what I meant," Zakowski clarified.

"We can start by honoring fallen comrades," Day whispered.

The four stopped in their tracks. It was true. They had yet to give thanks to heroes who gave their all in the battle against the Lokians.

"You know, I always thought Imes and Becker would eventually get back together," DeReaux smiled half-heartedly. "Everyone knew they still had strong feelings. After all, I could never get her alone...so, that's got to tell you something."