The Zohar III Exegesis (closed)

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Riley doesn’t quite share that sentiment. Daniel was...definitely mechanically challenged, but who had kept him on in that capacity? That kind of negligence, especially when he’d been bumped out of two other zones already…

Her mind drifts to the people who had entered cryosleep, and how she herself nearly ended up in space, or superheated, or drowned-she’s quick to shake it off. She’s not wishing ill will on anyone, but there was such a thing as manslaughter through negligence, and she hopes that wasn’t on Daniel’s ledger now or previously, because alive or dead he’d have to answer for it.

“Five feet...oh, wow. That’s uh-that’s really something.” She’s only a few inches taller than that! Riley worriedly looks him over, but he seems okay. He’d say if he was hurt and...Orlaiths are pretty durable, she thinks. He indicates the shell and his voice sounds like she feels-hopeful and encouraged.

“Hey, that’s an idea.” Riley agrees, clearly curious about the structure and what sort of creature might have inhabited it. Must have been something big. Maybe some sort of snail or something…? She starts that way, sloshing through the shallow water for as long as she possible.

“My mom did stuff like this.” Riley says, venturing something semi normal. Better than rattling off unrelated factoids or-she’s not sure what else. She strives to be friendly, but she’s never been the best at conversation-quiet by nature, she preferred to listen, not talk.

Bit harder in a group of two.

“E-exploring new worlds, I mean. She accompanied scientists and um, cartographers, essentially. Kept them safe.” Riley nodded, her respect obvious. Her mother had been a tough lady, back in the day-and still was. She hopes she’ll get through okay if and when she got wind of this. At least the older Worth wouldn’t want for much, that offshore insurance policy Riley had opted for.

“Other contracts she was helped to log mineral deposits, made something of a hobby noting the local flora. Even now she kinda keeps a little garden out back. Always been something of an amateur botanist, even though she mostly made a career being ground muscle. Likes plants as much as I like machines.” Riley laughs a little, adjusting the strap to the emergency bag. Despite being mother and daughter, they weren’t very much alike. The elder Worth always had been a little bemused by that, but luckily not impatient.

 

[Obuzeti]

"Yeah, it'd be a problem for you," Angstrom readily agrees, not quite aware of Riley's worried glance and dismissive of physical harm in any case. There's no form of mechanical force or pnuematic pressure that can hurt an Orlaith without stacking sums that would change the landscape, directed elsewhere. He doesn't have to worry about it.

Though he does shut up when Riley starts talking about her mother, which is - nice, he guesses. He likes how humans do clans. There's always someone there for you when nobody else will be.

"Like ground security for anyone heading to the surface? Not just martial police, I'm guessing," Angstrom says, attempting to place the occupation in his head. He can sort of grope at the meaning, but again, it's a human concept that doesn't translate over well. Orlaith don't generally specialize in violence, because so little can injure them anyways. "Sounds like she'd know what to do here."

He swims over to beside the shell as best he can, though he dares not touch the salt deposits on the shoreline. Instead, he extrudes a psuedopod and tries to crane it to catch a glimpse into the interior of the shell. It looks relatively empty - perhaps freshly beached - and he can only see as far as the first turn, where the shell turns and pivots around the central pillar. It looks to narrow down to around half Riley's height at that point, about five feet back into the shell. She won't quite be able to lay down straight in it, if his estimates are accurate, but she should definitely be able to kind of curl up in it safely. Best not leave anything out in the open to nibble on, anyways.

"Stretch the tarp over the entrance so nothing bothers you in there, then set up," Angstrom advises. To be completely honest, he's not all certain what a human needs to survive anyways.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Sounds like she’d know what to do here.”

“Definitely would have. She’s a...a tough cookie, you know? Knew what to do when things were...were down to the wire. She has all kinds of stories.”

Riley seems to be drawing strength in thinking about her, and it buoys the hopeful optimism the young woman clearly feels. She hums a soft, barely breathed bit of a tune as she shuffles around in the mesh bag again, retrieves a tightly folded space blanket and a plasticized tarp.

“Would um, would it help if I unfurled this over the bank?” It’s a thoughtful gesture despite the bit of uncertainty in offering-Riley was more than a little shy, more used to the company of machines than people. She unfolds the space blanket carefully and flattens it out over the salt crusted bank, weighing it down with a few stones. “There.”

Rising to stand again, she turns to investigate the shell, absently unfolding the tarp as she bowed her head, then bent further to peek around the curve. The inside of the shell was a pretty sort of pearlized white color, bits of orange and cream tones throughout. It’d work for sure, and had been a good idea.

“This must have been some kind of creature.” Riley notes as she moves to jury rig the tarp up. “Do you think it vacated for an even larger one? Can’t imagine the claws on something like that, can you?”

A second space blanket is laid out, and then Riley settles down onto her knees and withdraws the water purifier as well as the instructions for it, then the emergency beacon next thing. It’s solar powered so she’ll set it outside in a moment, but for now lets it draw off battery.

“Might be able to find the others and help the others find us with this, eventually. Rescue’s a long way off, after all.” She’s glad not to be alone. Strength in numbers sure, but mostly-it'd be scarier out here without anyone to talk to.

 

[Obuzeti]

"Thanks," Angstrom calls, carefully flowing up the tarp to the beach. The sand is classic quartz, easily shed since he doesn't have the adhesive skin oil humans always seem to be secreting. From there he slides around to the shell and glides up the inner wall to hang from the ceiling, as much out of Riley's way as possible. He slides in a little further along the roof, tasting the nacre. "This is a gastropod shell, actually," he says, his vibrational voice echoing as it reverberates into the chambered heart. "Like a snail or something. The inside's so pearly because it would have helped it retain moisture above the waterline."

The interior curl of the shell is wide enough that Angstrom can slip around past Riley's deft fingers to the tarp she hangs up, where he seals about the strip of water-resistant fabric and begins the long process of breaking down some calcium carbonate and rebonding it to the edge of the tarp. When he's done it'll be a contiguous flap rather than a jury-rig, which he judges a necessary sacrifice. Having a sealable entrance will protect Riley from the variety of scavengers and parasites that he's sure litters the surface of this alien world. He can't catch everything, but he can damn well try.

In the meantime, he peers down at Riley. With the tarp blocking most of the sunlight, the interior of the shell is damp and cool - honestly, the first moment to breath they've had since waking up.

"That's the hope," he says, but he's personally rather doubtful. He saw how badly the ship was fucked before they got away; this was an explorer rig, and he'd seen the other crew quarters already detached. There was a manual charge you could set off to separate the crew compartment as a sort of bootleg evacuation pod, but that was later than last ditch, mainly for trying to keep as much cargo safe as possible than maintaining atmosphere, and anyone with the time to do that would have been trying to save the ship instead, he thinks.

But he doesn't know enough to confirm or deny that, so instead he asks, "You good? No major injuries, right?"

He hadn't tasted any blood, so at least she hadn't popped a leak anywhere, he hopes. Integumerary systems were difficult for him to understand. Permeable membranes were so much simpler than that Jenga-style stacking of dead cells as armor.

He'd be fine, but keeping Riley alive and well was going to be the immediate issue.

Angstrom didn't want to be alone.