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The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Flash bangs, not tear gas, Jotun Actual. A little fire wouldn’t be so bad in this situation, all things considered. Please advise.” Fret Chappel replied. He had a flash bang in his left hand, index finger stuck through the pin and ready to pull. His other hand grasped his rifle while it pointed towards the ground. He was wearing full gear including a black full face helmet.

Eva was in her Javelin nearby, standing protectively over the compact comms relay and several cases of equipment they had just set up. The towering mech whirred whenever it moved, so she was remaining very still to avoid startling the natives.

The range of hills had wonderful views from the little flat clearing at the apex they’d chosen. On one side was a forested basin with a lake partially visible through the trees. Mountains reached for the sky as far as the eye could see. On the other side was a dramatic vista of the floodplains draining into a vast body of water.

Fret wasn’t interested in that right now though. Surrounding them (but staying at least fifty feet away through the bushes) were half a dozen leather-clad Tekeri with bows. They looked quite dishevelled and appeared to have daubed their feathers in some dark red substance. It stunk when the wind carried it.

---

Zey gave a thumbs up to the Glen blacksmith, slightly creeped out by what she assumed was a smile. She put a hand up to her ear instinctively when Mallory came through.

“Copy that. Ibarra is Oscar Mike, as are some of the natives. Prep a team - nobody touches the comms relay except us.” Zey replied to Mallory after he reported what was going on further up the hill.

She signed off when all the natives began speaking to her. The first was Vigdis, who like many of the crew was very good at slotting in immediately after she’d finished on her comms unit.

“Alright, so we figure out if this planet contains the minerals, get the natives to mine it, then Arancini smelt it for them. Right Arancini?” Zey called to the Jotunheim’s machinist.

Immediately following Vigdis was Kareet, the well preened scholar.

“We’re happy to tell you about the Human race. We’re not comfortable with anyone pretending to be us though.”

Zey shot a glance at Kerchak, who she’d heard openly discussing the possibility of mimicking her crew’s appearance.

“I’ll let my engineers discuss the details of your electric…magic. But that is much appreciated. Thank you.”

Next was the spooky flaming tree.

“We may need food, depending on how long we stay. Is there game in these parts?

Finally, Zey turned to Nellara, who was occupying a strategic piece of dirt between the Glen lord and as many of her crew as possible.

“Yes, of course I understand. Right now though, my crew is in danger from some Tekeri on your territory. Shall we go and figure this out before someone gets hurt, hmm?”

---

The hunters chattered loudly to each other in a dialect that Wodan’s translation software was having trouble deciphering.“What are you saying?” Fret shouted. A few of the Tekeri started forward; they could be startlingly fast when they wanted to be.

“Hey hey hey!” Fret yelled. He pointed his rifle straight up in the air and pulled the trigger.

A loud rifle crack sounded out, rolling down the hillside and echoing off the closest mountains. Fret raised his other palm, with the flash bang in it towards the closest hunter, but there was no need. The Tekeri instantly recoiled at the gun and scattered, running back behind nearby trees and dense bushes.

---

Zey heard the shot and instantly craned her neck to look up the hill. All the Glen jolted, fighting instinctual skittishness.

The Captain connected to the Bridge again, a hint of urgency in her voice.

“I heard a shot, what's happening?”

It was Fret Chappel who sent a blanket message to all comms units via the new relay.

“This is Chappel. Contacts are gone, for now. Over.”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Arrogance is thinking I need a title to slay you where you stand, Castigator Silbermine shot back. It was taking all the restraint he had to maintain a civilised dialogue while being berated at every turn. A twig snapped at the edge of the clearing, and all the Glen ears twitched to listen in. More of Silbermine’s retinue were watching, waiting.

Silbermine turned his attention back to the Human with a lame leg. Frankly he was confused by what they were saying. First, the tiny golem on its arm seemed to confirm they had declined his offer without a moment’s thought. Then they claimed to have come from celestial heavens so far removed that even the gods hadn’t reached them. Silbermine thought briefly of the sky at night; giant constellations of twinkling lights, and was awed all over again.

Then the Human started saying things that he had no understanding of. The golem translator’s long winded unpacking of the concepts was lost on Silbermine, and for a moment his focus drifted to the flaming Iriad of the group. It had shown open spite, but it was clearly a magical being. A champion like that could be a worthy substitute for these Humans if they weren’t willing to help him. His eyes narrowed slightly as the Iriad met his stare.

During this time, a couple of the Humans had talked to the Castigator, and then the lame one offered a demonstration while also claiming magicks too advanced for him to understand. Silbermine huffed and his eyes narrowed even further. He was starting to dislike this one. He did relish the slight note of concern that appeared to be creeping into the Castigator’s voice. They were growing insecure that the Humans may be seduced by the promise of gold and glory.

This was when another Human addressed him. He thought it could be the one he had thrown a currency band to days ago, but it was hard to tell - they all looked alike. What this one said sent a thunderbolt up his spine. Now it made sense why they knew not of the gods! Silbermine boomed a satisfied sigh when Itxaro addressed him again about the Running. The Castigator jumped in at this point, evidently desperate to distract him from his purpose. He replied to her quietly when she came closer.

“You talk of war when that surely visits ruin upon these noble sky people. I am merely offering them coin, expertise and labour in exchange for their help! What do you offer, beyond empty platitudes?” At this point, another Human appeared, carrying some glasses and a red liquid. Silbermine sniffed the proffered glass before Sir Sweven took it. The vessel looked tiny and awkward in his gauntleted fist. The knight took a sip, checking for poison. Glen had their own intoxicating beverages, it seemed Sir Sweven would have preferred those to the strange Human offering. "What is this wine made of?" He asked Arancini.

Silbermine talked around Nellara to Dr Ibarra. “The track I intend to enter has twelve Korunds.” The translator unpacked that as an ‘approximate measure of distance similar to a furlong’.

“I believe I know the perfect role for you in this, Humans. One component of the second Korund is for foreigners who DO NOT know of the gods we worship to gain patronage from a Monastic Order for the House of their benefactor.”

Silbermine didn’t elaborate, because this task was actually one of the hardest feats to achieve. The Monastic Orders exacted a pound of flesh from any champion who dared ask for patronage during the Running. But the rewards from this Korund were huge - Monasteries and Orders in general were fabulously wealthy off the fat of their flock. Gaining patronage from them was a sure way to secure a dynasty.

“Besides that, there are countless opportunities for valour and glory. I require many champions this year, including magic users - what say you? I have never witnessed your ilk before, Iriad. You could be a hero!” The last bit, Silbermine directed towards Shirik.

It was at this point that Zey arrived outside the camp. She’d crossed the trenches that’d been dug around the Jotunheim so far, inspecting their integrity as she went. The rocky terrain made them shallow and irregular, barely shoulder-high on her, but they were better than standing in the open.

All the while, she was listening to the conversation (and occasional argument) unfolding in the camp. So when she arrived, Zey didn’t waste any time. Her tone was firm and measured. She gestured between Nellara and Silbermine with all her fingers pressed together like a teacher might reprimand pupils, despite being half their size. She didn’t even have her plate carrier on.

“Our ‘golems’ are not for hire right now. They’re busy preparing for the arrival of two armies because you can’t put aside your differences. I want to make our position quite clear - we come in peace and want to trade goods and knowledge with both of your nations. But we’re also ready to defend ourselves if threatened. Our kind have fought each other for over ten thousand years; we’ve gotten very good at it. Please don’t make us prove that. Now here’s what you can actually help us with instead of trying to maim each other.” Zey used the fingers on one hand to outline the separate points.

“Firstly, power. If your magic can jump start our…furnace? We’ll take as many people as you’ve got. Secondly, clothing. Our air is different to yours - our clothes could catch fire at any moment. Do you have tailors? We need uniforms. Third, a very large box and lots of small boxes fell out of our ship before we crashed and I want them back…We’ll also need more food samples to test, and water…Am i missing anything?” Zey looked around at her crew for help before resuming.

“In return, we can provide highly refined metals like aluminium and titanium. You have a blacksmith here - you is welcome to test anything and everything we trade” Zey waved at J’eon as he came over.

“I will consider sending a delegation to the Running if…we have a sworn guarantee of safety. We will definitely want to be paid for our participation, thank you Dr Ibarra! We’ll also meet any important people you think we should meet… Do we have a trade?”

Zey looked at Nellara and Silbermine, nervous now she’d finished her monologue. The inhabitants of the Jotunheim had an exceptionally weak hand; she could only hope she’d played it with some element of flair.

As if on cue, the ship’s lights flashed three times. That was the signal to return to the ship. Zey pressed the earbud connected to her comms unit.

“Zey to Bridge, do we have a problem, over.”

---

“Sir, they’re still approaching the comms relay. Fifty metres and closing. Translation software is saying they want us to remove the ‘evil totem’. Chappel is requesting the authorisation of non-lethal rounds to disperse them.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

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The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Sir, the mobile relay just came online. It's Edwards and Chappel.” Comms officer Anselm called to Mallory on the bridge.

“Initial scan activated.” A large spherical grid appeared on the Navigator’s interface. A detailed 3D model of the area surrounding the relay’s position on top of the hill the Jotunheim had crashed into began to appear. It was 526 metres away and 167 metres higher up.

They were positioned in the middle of two other similarly sized hills, with verdant valleys running between the three. To the ‘south-east’ appeared a large forest - the scan highlighted a few bodies of water and (with lower certainty) some possible structures hidden within. To the ‘north’ was the floodplain visible from the Jotunheim itself.

One of Anselm’s comm panels squawked - she quickly put on a headset.

“Jotun Two Zero this is Jotun Actual. I read you - what is your status, over?”

Anselm listened intently.

“Copy that Jotun Two Zero, hold for orders, over.”

The comms officer spun in her chair to address Mallory.

“Sir, there are more of those bird things approaching the relay. Edwards says they’re dressed like hunters. Our team are requesting instructions.” This sort of situation was within the XO’s remit. It evidently required a quick reaction and he was clearly in the best position to respond with the Captain elsewhere.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“On my way.” Zey confirmed to Itxaro over comms. She opened a service hatch and hopped down.

“Oh, and Vigdis? Don’t let the shapeshifter look at any more videos. I don’t like where that is heading one bit.”

---

“I am proposing a mutually beneficial arrangement. It is the Ascendency that ruins anyone who cannot perform for the ‘greater good’.” Silbermine shot back calmly to Nellara; he was at pains to remain level-headed. He even ignored the heresy in her accusations; the gods could decide her fate.

Vigdis’ translator didn’t really port sarcasm over. Silbermine thought these strangers quite amenable so far, if a little slow. “Apologies, allow me to explain.” Silbermine replied when this first Human seemed to not have understood.

“The Running is a months-long contest where the noble families of Mythadia compete for responsibilities at court, control of castles, towns, land, Glen. Winners also have the chance to enact their proposed amendments to some laws. All of Mythadia joins in the glorious pageantry.” This stuff came naturally to Silbermine - his education extensively featured the intricacies of the Mythadian power structures.

“You come from the sky, and yet you do not know Venurwreth?” Silbermine supposed something must have gotten lost in translation. “He is a sky god who travels the world atop a great shard storm, leaving behind treasures for the worthy who brave the danger below.”

It was at this point that another Tekeri berated Silbermine. He snorted in annoyance. It was one thing to trade spirited insults with a respectable figure like the Castigator. It also seemed prudent to be cautious and respectful around what appeared to be one of the few truly odd beings that roamed Kanth-Amerek. The burning tree had made its feelings known with a disgusting laugh and some barbs which weren't lost on the nobleman. But for a commoner to think they could speak to him like that without fear of retribution wasn’t going to fly.

“Stay your tongue, hedge-born.” Sir Sweven growled softly at Kerchak as a few Glen stepped forward, bearing hunks of bread. “Show some respect when addressing my lord.” The knight offered a long, thin loaf to Itxaro, towering over her. A Glen-at-arms offered another loaf to Arancini and Vigdis. One more was offered to Nellara. This variety had a green tinge, was very tough on the outside, and extremely salty. Glen liked salt.

“I see no problem with parlé here.” Silbermine replied to Itxaro. “It would be best to finalise the details of our deal in private though, if you choose to accept. We have observed you from a respectful distance, and I have been very impressed with the longevity of your golems, both large and small… I would be very interested in learning more about what they can do. Will you show us?”

---

Zey exited the shuttle bay into the clearing. As she made her way over to the group of individuals conversing by the Tekeri camp, her keen eyes spotted a Tekeri she hadn’t seen before making their way over as well. The closest security droid had clanked up behind them.

“This is a restricted area. Please identify yourself.” It said directly to Subira in S’toric.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Zey slowly rolled the gob of chewing gum in her mouth when Vigdis confirmed it was the creepy shapeshifter who was asking. A cool breeze ruffled her flash gear from atop the Jotunheim. A spider bot gently bumped into her - it wanted to get access to a panel she was standing on. Zey stepped to one side and patched in the ship’s doctor.

“Feng, what are you doing right now? One of our new friends wants to learn about the Human body.”

Feng was sitting in the ship’s cramped med bay, examining some X-ray results on a tablet with augmented reality glasses on. A passenger in a grey hooded jumper with a new leg cast sat on the edge of a treatment pod. Whenever Feng looked up from his tablet, the X-ray data floated to the corresponding point in that patient’s anatomy.

“Sorry, vivisection class was first period, finished already.”

“Haha. Seriously. Show him the inside of an eyeball or something, what's the harm? I want to know how these things can POSSIBLY change their entire shape; seems a good trade, no?”

“Aye Captain. I can put some of my surgery head cam video on a screen for them. Does that work?”

“Well, i was hoping for some footage that won’t fucking scar them for life but i guess i’ll take it at a pinch. Vigdis, do you have a screen you can lend the druid?” Zey asked the engineer, her eyes drawn to the edge of the charred clearing. A distinctive set of Glen appeared and had approached the team on the ground - it looked like they were talking. Zey pushed a clear earpiece into one ear and accessed the microphones of Itxaro, Arancini and Vigdis so she could hear.

---

Silbermine had been informed that the Humans were attempting to ‘learn’ S’toric a few days before. But this didn’t stop him from being taken aback when one of the tiny Human figures near the camp addressed him fluently. It seemed impossible, even with Thought magic sorcery. For once, it took him a moment to marshal his thoughts. The sight of the Jotunheim up close seemed to humble him.

“I…uhum, I sought your guidance and support in a matter of great importance. The Running approaches, and we are looking for champions. Exotic champions, to save my people from ruin against larger houses. I believe Venurwreth brought us together for this purpose. I have coin, if such an offering is required.”

Silbermine’s speech was slower and more enunciated, as one does when addressing a foreigner. It returned to normal when he included the various scowling locals in this conversation.

“You appear to have formed your own judgement of me. I pray that breaking the night’s fast together will help you see sense. We need not an escort.” That last part was directed to Nellara. Silbermine clicked his fingers and Sir Sweven motioned for two Glen-at-arms to pull some large loaves of preserved bread from their panniers.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

As the days went by at the Glen camp, Silbermine grew inpatient. Despite his initial rhetorical approach, he wasn’t stupid. The Castigator and that rabble had got there first and had made it very clear they didn’t want to share. The hilly terrain favoured the agile Tekeri form over hulking Glen knights. When you factored in unknowns like that burning tree and who the Humans would support (if anyone), a fight between the two sides could go either way. Silbermine didn’t have enough loyal Glen to just throw them away in a pricey skirmish.

No - His father had taught Gesith the virtue of patience. Even if the Castigator had sent a life mage back as a flying bird to raise an army, the mountains of the Ascendency made it difficult to mobilise large forces quickly. Keraknúr by contrast was just a couple of days away for a determined Glen. Silbermine hoped that enough supporters would turn up to force Nellara to give them access to these new arrivals. He was desperate to learn about them, and whether they would be his champions in the Running.

As they hadn’t packed enough food for a prolonged stay, most of Silbermine’s retinue foraged the forested hillside during the day. The rest watched the Jotunheim, its inhabitants and the Tekeri camp from a distance. Most were unlearned, but dutifully recounted everything they saw to Silbermine as best they could.

It was on the morning of the seventh day that one of the Glen-at-arms dashed back into camp while Silbermine was performing his ablutions.

“My lord! The Humans and the Tekeri are talking.”

Silbermine looked up, then put the wash rag back into the bowl of cold water and exited the tent bare chested. The warrior servant bowed down in reverence before continuing.

“I heard them. I thought they were speaking in tongues like before. But the things they carry speak!”

Glen had excellent hearing. In the right conditions, they could pick up the specifics of conversations from hundreds of yards away.

Silbermine locked eyes with Sir Sweven as they lifted the flap on their much smaller tent. You could have chiselled their faces from granite.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes milord. I watched them all and the Humans were speaking S’toric. It seemed to come from a brooch they wore.”

“Very well. Fetch my caparison, quickly!”

---

Lord Silbermine led Sir Sweven and four Glen-at-arms into the clearing that now surrounded the Jotunheim and approached the Humans and other K-A natives while they conversed. He wasn’t dressed in his ornate armour from last time, but rather a dark blue caparison emblazoned with his standard in white, a grizzled mountain tree with a bird of prey perched atop it. To not wear any armour in this situation was a clear signal that Silbermine wanted to talk, rather than fight. His followers had some armour, but not a full suit. One of the Glen carried a chest on their back.

“Good morrow! We wish to break bread and talk!” Silbermine called.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

The thirty-ish civilians who’d sheltered in the Jotunheim before takeoff were largely still wearing the clothes they’d arrived in. The ship didn’t have enough spare uniforms for everyone. Most had dressed for the cold Norwegian weather, with jumpers, hats, gloves and boots featuring quite prominently. Zey supposed that was a good thing - better to be wrapped up warm than only have a Hawaiian shirt and trunks.

Zey took her cue from Mallory.

“And I’m Zeynap Kadıoğlu, your Captain. We’re also here to listen to any concerns or suggestions you may have.”

In the end, Zey and Mallory were rarely conducting interviews at the same time. Someone needed to run the ship; there was a near constant stream of questions and status reports that needed answering. An exercise that the Captain hoped would take one day ended up taking two.

It seemed to her that the initial adrenaline and shock of the crash was wearing off, and their surprise passengers were now experiencing exhaustion (from cramped conditions), anger (that they couldn’t go outside) and fear (that they were stuck on an unknown planet in a wrecked vessel). Zey had more than a couple heated conversations with men and women who thought they knew better than her and the crew.

No, they couldn’t fly without operational reactors.

No, they couldn’t all just go camping outside to ‘get out from under each others’ feet’.

No, she couldn’t make a special exemption just for them.

She also had good conversations with ordinary people who were happy that someone was in charge, and were tentatively optimistic. They wanted to get home and see their families, and were ready to get stuck in to make that happen.

Zey took all everyone’s feedback on board, then gave them some insight into what was going to happen next. In order to get everyone home safe as quickly as possible, all able bodied people would work shifts. They would obey commands from their supervisor and the command crew at all times. It could be dangerous at times, but they would receive appropriate training, and Zey assured them it wouldn’t be more dangerous than remaining on this world for good.
After fielding a few questions about the work, Zey turned the interview back towards them. What was their skill set? What did they do for work? After combining her notes with Mallory’s list, they had the final tally - 29 civilian souls:

Spaceport cargo loaders x 2
Hangar attendant
Chemical Engineer (was heading to the Moon to help set up a new food factory)
Lunar mining equipment mechanic
Ethical hacker (knowledge of AI) - Broken leg
Archaeologists x 3
Nordic metal band members x 3
Landscape designer for the Martian rich and powerful
Lunar colony architect (head injury)
Solar energy farm engineer - focused more on sales
Marketing consultants & project managers x 3
Investment analyst x 2
Decentralised finance infrastructure engineer - Gunshot wound to shoulder
Gene editor (and mother to an 8 year old boy on board) - Venusian
Mining equipment manufacturing line supervisor (and father to a 9 year old girl on board)
Estate agent
Senior Claims Adjuster - Crisis Management, Cyber and M&A
VR game designer
Artist and graphic designer

One of the passengers who had been in critical condition since the crash died on the fourth day, and two more followed on the fifth day. Zey asked for them to be put on ice in available cryo pods for the time being - she wasn’t certain the natives wouldn’t dig up their dead again during the night.

On Crash+6, Zey reconnected with Eva @TinyKiwi about an important assignment. Getting their eyes and ears back was becoming too pressing to ignore. Once trenches had been dug, they were to head to the summit of the hill and set up the Jotunheim’s one remaining portable sensory array and comms relay (the others had fallen out somewhere over the marshes). They would set up two cameras (that was all they could spare) with a live link to monitor the site remotely.

If they could set that up successfully, the crew could begin building a detailed map of the area, identify mineral resources and increase their communications range.

On the morning of Crash+7, communications resumed with the locals who had camped nearby. Zey was on top of the Jotunheim, safely secured with a harness. She was surveying the damage and extent of repairs so far when a request from one of the aliens came through. They wanted to discuss Human biology.

“Is that the one that can’t decide what type of bird it wants to be? It's not asking to cut anyone up is it? What does it want to know?” Zey turned around to look at the camp down on the ground. A spidery mechanical drone clanked past.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

@Eviledd1984 Thank you for you character sheet! You're accepted as our new machinist. Welcome

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Thanks for this @Expendable! I agree with all of those bits. I'll create an inventory hider on the original post and start to expand by room when i get time. If anyone else has a good view on what sorts of things we'd have access to, i'd be very interested in hearing from you