Strange, crude devices darted past on the road in front of him. Clark stood near one of the trees and watched the vehicles pass. He could tell some of the transportation devices were better than others. Some were loud and some were quiet. It didn't seem that there was any uniform approach to the design and model of these devices and that was strange in itself. Why would everyone want to drive something that was different. Different usually meant substandard.
Many cars passed and he simply huddled up as tight as he could to the tree for the time. It would only take a few more hours for his arm to stop bleeding and then it would start mending over the next couple of days. In the meantime it was going to be sore and he could feel a headache settling in. This was miserable. The forest felt cool and he was already cold from the sweat drying on his body and the blood that soaked part of his jacket. Some of the blood had seeped far enough down to soak a portion of his left pantleg too. At least it didn't appear that he was too far from the nearest station, or city. Perhaps it was an outpost of sorts. The soft glow in the distance seemed to indicate that there would be at least a station there. If there was a station there was a chance he could get the material he needed to make his ship operational.
Staying outside wasn't a great option and neither was walking, but he didn't have much choice at this point. Clark didn't want to be spotted either. If he walked when there weren't any homosapians in their substandard ships passing by he could possibly make it by morning. At least it was easy to tell when another one of the crude little ships were coming. They had giant lamps on the front of them. A brief flash came over the hill and then fell behind it again. Another ship was coming. Clark started to ease his way into the forest again. He wanted to go unnoticed if possible. To his horror the vehicle slowed at such a pace that it was clear the driver had seen something, or they were looking for him.
Clark started to back into the forest a little more when he saw the crude vehicle come to a halt. A man stepped out of it. This man was strangely familiar in form. They were like the Tannas in many ways, but shorter. Whatever the man was yelling at him he didn't know, but it didn't look like it was going to be backing off either. Perhaps the homosapians were not friendly. Trying to make a similar gesture he did his best to imitate the man's greeting, or curse. Whatever it was. "Aaaye Ouuuuuu!"
Holt stared in confusion. He still couldn't make out what the person - who sounded like a man - looked like. "Hey!" he repeated, "Are you alright? There was a crash nearby. Were you in it?" Holt asked, still trying to make out the figure. Yet he refused to go far away from his car.
It had been years since Clark had even tried to talk to anyone physically. He had filled out dozens of reports and they were all in the hard drive of his ship. It was recording because if the Tannas at home could still get reads from his ship they would want to know what happened. This was different. Talking to an alien, if it could be considered talking. He didn't understand a word it said. However, it seemed to be repeating itself and Clark followed suit. "Haaye." This time he had heard the word a little more distinctly and he edged a bit closer to the edge of the forest. It was clear that his clothing didn't quite match what these people wore. Still holding his arm he winced a little. The hole in it hadn't quite healed and he could feel the seepage from it soaking the sleeve to his suit.
As Holt got closer, he could feel something wasn't right. Was the person deaf? It would surely explain their poor attempt at communicating. He realized that this could have been avoided if he hadn't stopped. But now he was obligated to help, and he wasn't that bad of a person to just leave a handicap in a forest, alone. Convinced that the person was deaf, Holt holstered his firearm and began to walk closer to the figure. The closer he got, the more he felt like there was something wrong. The figure was taller than him, but that alone wasn't strange. It was the fact that the person was taller than 6'3". And not just by a hair. Holt slowly began to reach for his firearm again while keeping his eyes on the mysterious individual. "Can you hear me? Are you hurt?"
Eyes darting to the man and then his hand and back again Clark debated running. He had seen that the man was holding something and he didn't know exactly what it was, but it didn't look good. Clark knew what a weapon was and it appeared that perhaps this homosapian was a representation of the law of sorts. They had come to investigate. It wouldn't be good to run. At some point he would have to report to the authorities. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other he made a hesitant step forward and frowned when the man spoke at him again. He would have ripped his arm clear off if he could have. Just to understand what the man was saying. Then he saw the man draw out the weapon again and Clark's heart slammed into his chest. There was only so much he could do. Cautiously he let go of his injured arm and raised the good one slightly. He didn't have anything, but his best shot at this was to get closer. If this thing was going to be hostile Clark could deal with him. It wasn't difficult to shift and become a little more loose in structure if need be.
Holt could now clearly see that the man stood well over 6 feet. The man held his arm before letting it go and holding his other arm in the air. Holt sighed and put his gun away. The man clearly had injuries and must have came from the crash. He slightly raised his hands in the air and put them back down. "Your arm is hurt?" he said while tapping his arm. It was at this moment that he wished that he had learned sign language.
Giving a sigh of relief Clark nodded slightly when he saw the man put the weapon away. That was far more reasonable and hopeful. Clark slowly lowered his arm to hold the other again. His plain grey suit jacket hugged his large frame and his pants were badly stained with grease and dirt from his mad scramble to get out of his ship. Thankfully his boots were still intact. Scanning the other man with his green eyes he realized that he was far taller. Was this man a short specimen of his kind? Perhaps he felt intimidated by the difference in size. However, changing size at this point was going to be difficult, because none of his clothing would fit right. So, for the time Clark chose to stay this size till he could determine what was normal for these people. Looking at the man's vehicle again he noted that it was likely he was going to have to shrink. Nodding slightly he saw the other man tapping at his arm and Clark moved his hand to start unbuttoning his jacket. Taking in a sharp breath he revealed the deep silver stain forming on his once white shirt underneath his
suit jacket. He would have liked to have presented himself in better form to the homosapian, but this first meeting was obviously going to be strange. His black hair was unkempt from the crash, his tan skin was smeared with sweat and grime from the smoke and his eyes were still wide with concern and curiosity. To keep from alarming this homosapian he did his best to speak what should be a common language. "Alfda une trum ickel."
"What?" Holt murmured, "I can't understand you." he said while pointing at his throat. While he couldn't understand what the man was saying, it was clear it wasn't gibberish. The structure of the sentence was too organised. He still couldn't see the man properly and decided to pull out his phone and turn on the built in flashlight. With a few taps of his finger, Holt was able to turn on the flashlight and as soon as he did, it illuminated the the tall man in a bright light. Holt was surprised to see what he looked like. He wore a strange jumpsuit and was covered in oil and dirt. Holt just stared in confusion and decided to speak "Were you the pilot of that ship?" he said while pointing at the amber light in the forest.
What the man did next didn't make much sense until the light nearly blinded Clark. He was taking a hologram. It could be a good or bad thing and then he started to question him and point to the forest. Clark knew what he meant, but he didn't want to answer. Clearly there was a language barrier and he was going to take full advantage of it. Instead he pointed toward the distant lights of a small city. It had to be a small city, or some sort of station. "Haaaye."
Holt felt like face palming. "Not this again..." he said as he started to flick his fingers to gain attention from the man. But the way the man was behaving was suspicious. It didn't make sense. Most people would't behave that way. In other words, he was bullshitting. And as the old saying goes "Don't bullshit a bullshitter.". Holt shined the light at his face and pointed at the forest with a serious expression. "Don't you haaaye me. I know your acting stupid.". He said in a serious and annoyed tone
The man was apparently displeased with the response and Clark winced as the light was shone in his face again. "Eaugh..." Turning his face away momentarily he waited for the man to put it down again. Why would he take a hologram just to ask a question? Was he really that short in memory? Clark didn't know what he said, but it sounded in part like a mockery. With a growl he took a step closer and stared at the homosapian. "Haaaye."
"Oh for fuck sake..." he said internally "Either this guy is purposefully wasting my time, or is more than just deaf." Holt decided that the best course of action would be to help the man instead of continuing to try and communicate with them. Since it obviously wasn't working. He walked over to his car and pulled out a med kit from his glove compartment. He picked it up and waved the red cross at the man.
Clark followed the man since he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be going with him, or not. Maybe he was going to take him to the outpost. Then Clark could find some parts for his ship and perhaps sneak in and fix it. He could retrieve his equipment for testing and maybe salvage some of his own weapons for self defense if need be. It was still hard to tell if these homosapians were delicate beings or not. Oddly enough the man pulled out a box and waved it at Clark. It was a warning? Looking around himself and then back to the forest Clark frowned. Shaking his head slightly he tried to show he had no idea what the man was trying to do and instead pointed to the crude little craft and then toward the station and then himself and then station again. "Hmmm?"
Holt sighed and opened the red box, revealing bandages and antibiotics. He then pointed at his wounded arm and urged him to come closer. As he did, he also went to his vehicle and turned on the headlights. They immediately shined like two eyes in the dark and illuminated the man completely. This time, in a more gentle way. Holt put the med kit onto the hood of his car and came up to the man. He extended his hand and pointed the finger of his other hand at himself and said "I. AM. HOLT."
The man seemed to be friendly enough, but keen on shining lights on him. Clark was getting annoyed. Why this homosapian had such a fascination with light he didn't know. Grumbling a little he took the small kit from the man and took out only the bandages. Pulling his jacket off the rest of the way and then his shirt he made a clumsy attempt at wrapping his shoulder and then took himself to the passenger side of the little ship. "Haaye Holt."
The man looked like a simpleton to say the least, even though he had seen dumber. Holt pointed at himself again "I. AM. HOLT." he then pointed at the man, expecting to learn his name. Something about him was off. Holt couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew that this man wasn't stupid.
Taking a deep breath Clark grit his teeth. This man was obsessed with repeating himself. He'd just introduced himself and he was doing it again. There wasn't anything wrong with the greeting that he'd given and yet, Holt wanted another. Did homosapians have a custom of doing everything twice? "Haaye Holt." Saying it more deliberately he glowered at the man. It could feel like a very long time on this planet if everyone did everything twice. Pointing to himself he followed the strange custom with some irritation. "Clark.....Clark."
Clark was his name , it seemed. The fact that he kept grunting and growling like he had something up his rear, slightly annoyed him. It was clear that he wanted to go to Feldberg as much as Holt. But something wasn't right. He couldn't figure it out, but he knew it didn't have anything to do with Clark, or at least, not directly. He stared into the forest. He knew it had something to do with it. And without warning, it hit him like a bag of bricks. Clark probably wasn't alone in that plane or whatever it was. Maybe there were more people out there? Holt got out of his car and began to sprint into the forest with his phone light out. He was motioning Clark to follow him. He wasn't going to leave that weirdo in his automobile.
What the man did made no sense whatsoever. This homosapian suddenly leaped out of his craft and started to run into the forest. He was going to get help and he was going to arrest him. Clark wasn't dumb enough to follow him. Instead he played the game long enough to look like he was going to follow and then slipped into the pilot's seat of the craft. It couldn't be that hard to figure out how to fly.
Holt was about to enter the forest when he saw Clark sit into the driver seat and start fumbling with the wheel. Holt chuckled to himself and walked over to Clark, who was now in the driver seat. He calmly reached in and pulled out the keys from under the wheel. "You're starting to impress me, you know? Even the biggest moron on the planet knows how to operate a damn car.". He hid the keys away and motioned Clark to follow him. He knew there must have been other people out there in he forest. There was no way Clark was the pilot - even though that would have explained the crash. "Now come on, there are probably other people out here."
The man's hand slipped into the front of the car and took the keys. Clark narrowed his eyes and stared at the human for a long moment. If that was how you controlled the vehicle then he could imitate it. Holding his hand next to the slot for the key he simply pressed hard with his hand and let his finger slide into the slot and he felt his way around till he found the point where he could make contact and then he pushed a little more and finally turned it till he felt the zap. It hurt a little and he jumped in the seat before he grinned at the human. He had the engines started and they were going to the outpost. With his other hand he reached out to close the door on the car.
"What the hell..." but before Holt could finish his thought, Clark had began to drive off. Holt began to sprint towards the car. Thankfully all of those stupid drills in the army made sure he wasn't slow. The car was beginning to gain some speed and if Holt catch up in time. He would probably have to get to Feldberg on foot. But there was no way in hell he was going to let some maniac drive off in his car. It meant too much t him. He had it for years and he wasn't going to lose it now. He sprinted like an animal, trying to catch up to his car. Once he got close enough, jumped onto the back. Clark was trying to hake him off, but Holt's grip was too strong. He pulled out his keys and opened the rear left door and hopped in. He closed the door and aimed his firearm at Clark. "Stop the car! Now!". He made sure there was distance between him and Clark. He knew this man probably wasn't even human.
Getting the strange craft started was easy. It didn't even have a biometric lock to try and imitate. It was such a simple hack and now he just had to figure out how to make a crude craft lift off and go. Well, perhaps just go. This thing was clearly not made to be flown. The first pedal made it slow and the second made it fast. Clark knew better than to slam either of the pedals and he wasn't sure of the acceleration on this craft so he started to ease it back onto the navigation pad. While he was slowly gaining the speed the homosapian was running him down. It was tempting to just slam the pedal to the floor and go, but it might be the only craft that Clark would have for a time. When the man grabbed hold of the vehicle Clark swerved a few times, but he didn't quite shake the man off. He felt the craft shake a little with the sudden added weight of the man in the back and he glanced over his shoulder at him. Of course he'd pulled a weapon out. Perhaps he didn't have to kill the man yet, but he could make his point. This time he decided not to care about the condition of the craft and he slammed on the pedal to stop. Once they were stopped he pulled his hand out of the ignition and allowed it go back to a normal shape. Staring at Holt for a long moment he set his jaw and then shifted until he looked exactly like the man and then repeated a phrase from earlier. "I. Am. Holt."
"Yeah, same." Holt said as he motioned him to move to the opposite seat. A normal person would have had a different reaction, but Holt wasn't surprised, especially after the Houdini trick with his finger. Clark smiled and moved over. Holt squeezed into the front driver seat and put his keys in the ignition. He prayed to god that Clark didn't break something. He breathed a sigh of relief and stared at Clark, who looked like Holt. Down to the last detail. "Damn, I got old..." he said as he stared at his double "Well, I guess there was no one at the ship then..." he deadpanned "Guess I'll take you Feldberg then. You better put on your seat belt." he motioned at Clark as he put on his seat belt. "Trust me, you don't want to get the cops on us.". As he finished his sentence, be began to drive to the nearby town. After some silence, and no growling from Clark, Holt had an idea. "How about we turn on the radio, eh?" he said with some humor. He went ahead and turned on the radio, only to hear one of his favorite
songs playing.
At least it seemed that Clark had got his point across and he moved over. The man was going to take him to the outpost. Settling into the seat he let himself shift back to his usual form. First of all he had to be able to fit his clothing. He didn't have much choice when it came to transportation and he didn't trust the man, but he had to rest at some point. Leaning the seat back a little he found that he could keep an eye on the man and relieve some of the pain in his shoulder. Keeping his mouth closed he tried to remain as quiet as possible though the craft had a rough ride. It was highly affected by every little bump on the navigation pad. If this was a representation of society here, then it was all crooked and poorly constructed. They were not what he could consider an advanced society in the least. Even the bandage was pathetic. Who used strips of cloth? It should have been a pad with a coagulant in it. Something to stop the bleeding. He was almost ready to fall asleep when the man decided to turn on horrendous music. If it could have been considered that. It sounded more like wailing of sorts and disjointed instrumentation. Peeling his eyes open he glanced to the man and then sat up a little straighter and shut the music off.
Clark watched with growing anticipation as the station got closer. He hoped that it would be more advanced than this man's substandard form of transportation. Instead he found himself with a growing knot of dread forming in his stomach. Every small outpost or home leading up to the station seemed to be equally crude in their design. When it became clear that there was not anything sophisticated enough to fix his ship an involuntary groan sounded from deep in his throat. This was not one of his better moments and he was starting to feel sick.
The shoulder continued to throb and ache well after the vehicle was stopped for the night. There wasn't a whole lot else that Clark could do besides follow this stranger around. He didn't want to follow him, but he didn't know anyone else and he didn't have anywhere to go and nothing to fix his ship with. Most of the people that he saw in the town were lighter in skin and he determined that perhaps he could change to look more like them. Still keeping his current height and build he made an imitation of the light skin and gave himself sandy blonde hair with blue eyes. Now that he liked his image better and it appeared more like those around the area he felt a little better about blending in. Reaching up he felt around his shoulder and inspected it briefly. There wasn't anymore blood so he took the bandage off. It would just take a few days for it to heal the rest of the way now.
When they stopped he got out of the vehicle and followed Holt inside a small building. Sleep sounded good and he was afraid to sleep, but there wasn't much choice either. They were going to have to learn to trust each other. At least they were on a similar ground when it came to understanding. Clark didn't know what Holt could do and Holt only knew in part what Clark could do. There were a lot of things that Clark could do that he suspected these homosapians couldn't. Silently he watched while Holt got ready for bed and then Clark slowly laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling in the oddly rustic little dwelling. So far this place was only made worse by the fact that he didn't understand much if anything that was said.