Return to Krell

She was somewhat hesitant to make an attempt to communicate, the translator still needed a lot of work, but if she never used it then the learning algorithm wouldn't be able to refine its parameters. Better to just jump into the deep end and hope for the best.

She activated the speaker and cleared her throat.

"Hello, my name is Lena, thank you for your hospitality."

The device emitted a series of warbles and rumbles, the group of Krell going silent and staring curiously at her. She was no doubt communicating in a butchered pidgin of their language, but hopefully she had made herself understood.

"I...uh...I hope to learn a lot about your culture during my stay. I'm...using a machine to translate your language."

Sleethe at least seemed to get the gist of what she was trying to convey, further explaining her situation to their hosts as she listened in on the exchange. The light on her arm spoke for her, at least that was the way that he put it, and the other aliens nodded to one another as if that was all the explanation that was needed. They were not curious about the technology, they were not interested in the talking machine. It helped her to speak and that was all they needed to know about it apparently.

"Sleethe, can you ask them if they have somewhere that we can stay while we're here?"

It seemed a little presumptuous to just walk into a village of strangers and expect to be put up for the duration of their visit, but that was the Krell way. The aliens were unnaturally friendly, and the last time they had visited the planet the locals had done just that.

Lena felt a tremor through the ground, the mud beneath her boots rippling as something impossibly large approached the gathering. The Krell parted, letting an even more monstrous example of their species pass them to stand before Lena and Sleethe.

It was as large to Sleethe as he was to Lena, it must have been twelve feet tall at least, absolutely massive and with a hide so dark that it was bordering on black. Its legs were as thick as tree trunks, the spread of its many toes as large as a manhole cover to prevent it from sinking into the mud. Its tail was at least half of its body length, trailing off a ways behind it, packed with so much fat and muscle that a grown man would not have been able to straddle it.

It brought its snout down to sniff her, bending double to get down to her level as it rested its gigantic hands on its knees. It was the size of a damned dinosaur, she could have put her fist inside one of its nostrils with room to spare. This was no doubt a very old Krell, perhaps the village elder, and it looked as if the whole tribe had been using his segmented underbelly as a canvas. There were all kinds of markings and runes, with geometric patterns and strange shapes that almost looked like crude depictions of trees and animals. It reminded her of cave paintings, but drawn onto a living being rather than a stone wall. They were intricate and elaborate, there was no way that the usually lazy lizards would apply them every time they faded or were washed off, and so it was safe to assume that the colored pigments must stain their leathery hides for a very long time.

She had been unable to wash off the marking that had been drawn on her head the last time that she had visited, and it had only come off after the upper layers of her epidermis had been shed, and the dye along with it. Who knew how long those same pigments might linger when applied to a Krell's rough skin.

It was wearing decorative jewelry that matched its exaggerated stature, the necklace that hung from its thick neck was large enough that Lena could have worn it as a skirt. There were tiny white shells that had been threaded through string made from woven grasses, colorful beads adding shades of red and blue to the display. There were also animal bones and small skulls, carved like ivory with intricate geometric patterns, not trophies from hunts but rather items of interest that they had found and decided to use. At least that was the impression that Lena got, the temperament of the Krell led her to believe that they were unlikely to hunt for sport.

How did such a heavy creature even fit in the village without the whole structure collapsing under its weight? Perhaps the Krell were better architects than the outward appearance of their rickety shacks would suggest.

Lena wasn't sure if she should be doing anything in response, if there was some local custom that she was unaware of when greeting an elder. As similar as everything seemed to her last visit, the Brokers could have set down clear across the planet from the previous location. Sleethe spoke with the giant in their native tongue, Lena's translator doing its best to follow what was being said, but it was still very rusty and unreliable.

Sleethe explained again why they were here, and asked for permission to stay in their village, the elder considering for a moment before giving an affirmative reply. Lena thanked him, and the meaning seemed to have been conveyed accurately enough.

Now that a decision had been reached and the aliens had sated what little curiosity they had, the crowd dispersed and the gaggle of Krell lumbered away to return to their usual business. It was almost as if having an alien visit their village was routine, but that couldn't possibly be the case. They might have seen Brokers before, but they had never seen a human. Lena herself had been one of only a handful of humans who had ever set foot on the planet.

The pair followed the elder over to the village, the giant creature mounting a gangplank that led to the next level, the wood creaking ominously under his weight. Lena waited until he was clear before following behind him. It looked like it was scarcely able to hold him, and she didn't want to be the straw that broke the camel's back. While it wouldn't be fatal, a fall from this height would probably bury her up to her waist in mud.

The surface was slippery with moisture, her already muddy boots skidding on the damp wood, and with no hand rail to hold onto she had to extend her arms for balance. Sleethe gripped the surface with his seven, clawed toes, reaching out a hand to steady her as she climbed. They emerged onto the lowest tier of the village, a wooden platform that ringed the first of many small huts that was suspended perhaps six feet from the mud below. Each hut had a platform, and each platform was joined to the larger village by a haphazard network of walkways and bridges. The layout seemed completely random, as were the elevations of the different shacks. Rather than have each building at the same elevation, the connecting walkways slanted up and down as necessary.

Everything creaked, and every surface was coated in a layer of moisture that gave it a reflective sheen, making Lena feel as if one wrong step might send her tumbling to the ground below. She had to keep in mind that if the heavy Krell could cross these bridges without them falling apart, then she should have no problem. Even so, she stayed close to Sleethe, confident in the knowledge that he would reach out and catch her if she should slip and fall.

She was glad of her hat. Water rained down from the upper levels, the moisture in the atmosphere condensing on every available surface and dripping from the higher tiers of the village. There were creepers and vines growing even here, almost as if they had been intentionally guided by the Krell in order to further reinforce the structure. It gave everything an Elvish feel, like something from a children's storybook or a fantasy movie. If Elves lived in swamps, then this is what they would build.

She noticed that some of the trees that she had assumed at first glance to be dead had fleshy leaves growing from their twisted branches. They were alive, cultivated for the purpose of holding up the village, snaking between the structures as they climbed higher in search of light. Their branches braced against the shacks, reinforcing them and acting as support beams. Remarkable. As much as the design of the village appeared random and clumsy, this level of planning must span generations. Some of these trees must have been growing for hundreds of years.

As well as being wet, the glistening wood from which the village was constructed was coated in mosses and fungi, the pervasive damp making it a haven for mushrooms and other clinging plant life. The Krell settlement was practically an organism in its own right.

The closer she looked, the more intricacies she began to notice in the woodwork. Much like the village that she had visited during her previous expedition, there was an undeniable artistry hidden beneath the moss and vines. There were Krell runes carved into every available surface, wherever there was a wooden wall or an exposed tree trunk someone had gone to great lengths to decorate it with rolling script and intricate reliefs.

Lena ran her ungloved fingers across the wall of a nearby shack, feeling the indentations that had been cut into the wood. This could be purely decorative, or it could be some kind of historical record. She couldn't read Krell, but during her stay she intended to take rubbings of every damned inch of this village. She would catalog everything, and no matter what it took she would decipher this alien text. Decoding their language and their script could be her life's greatest work, and there was no competition. Only one human had been allowed to set foot on the planet and every new discovery would be hers alone.

The towering elder led them deeper into the village, the thick trunks that coiled around the structure and the hanging creepers giving the impression that they were deep inside some jungle. It was so dense that very little light made it through the platforms and foliage above them, Lena's eyes taking a moment to adjust to the gloom as they pressed on. It was like being inside some giant, maze-like treehouse. There were structures both above and below her, and all around her were either the foliage-covered roofs of Krell houses, or the thick supports and tree trunks that were holding aloft the huts over her head. It was almost like walking beneath a pier at low tide, the forest of long stilts exposed, their glossy surfaces covered in barnacles and clinging seaweeds.

The rope bridges felt especially precarious, but these at least had handholds that she could cling to as the crude constructions waved back and forth, their design not dissimilar from those of human origin that one might find on a nature trail. She was starting to understand why there was such a glaring lack of safety features. Humans were small and light, they fell over easily, but Krell were sure footed and it was hard to imagine one toppling over by accident. Their wide feet provided them with a lot of balance, and their massive tails seemed to anchor them to the ground with their weight. They lumbered along slowly and confidently, too bottom-heavy to risk a fall.

As she crossed a bridge made from knotted vines, she chanced a look over the edge, her stomach lurching as she peered down at the sheer drop below. They were getting higher and higher the further they went, and they were now at least twenty feet off the ground.

When they passed by houses, occasionally a Krell would poke its long snout out from behind a bead curtain, watching as the strange procession passed them by. Sometimes the elder would stop and bump heads with them affectionately, like two cats brushing up against each other, obviously some kind of greeting reserved for friends or maybe relatives.

As they neared what Lena surmised must be the center of this tiered village, she saw a much larger structure, far older than the other huts. The wood had been worn from decades of exposure to the elements, and there were three enormous trees holding it up like pillars as they cradled it in their branches. It was old growth, gnarled and twisted, the rough bark covered in mushrooms with bright red caps and creepers that sprouted with purple flowers. This was the heart of the settlement, no doubt some kind of town hall or chieftain's hut.

Rather than being built from planks, this one was made from thick logs that had obviously been felled somewhere else and carted here. Even for a Krell dwelling this was large, it reminded her more of a church or a cathedral such was its scale. How much did it weigh? It was no surprise that it needed several massive trees to support it, their branches wound around it like the pale bones of some skeletal hand.

It was elaborately decorated, each of the wooden logs had been stripped of its bark and was carved with spiraling runes and patterns, winding their way all around the building. Some were far older than others, the combination of time and the elements dulling them. Others were obscured by thick sheets of green moss that clung to the wood in moist blankets, droplets of dew making the carpet of greenery glisten under what little sunlight penetrated the platforms above.

Here and there Lena could make out more elaborate decorations, what looked like representations of trees and animals, along with crude figures of Krell engaging in various indeterminable activities. It reminded her of what she had seen when she had visited the Lascaux caves in the Dordogne region of France to view the paleolithic paintings, left there tens of thousands of years ago by the primitive ancestors of modern humans. Each figure likely told a story, or perhaps they had some religious significance. Much like Borealan tapestries, these carvings might be a record of their ancient history, or a kind of library of knowledge. Neither paper nor unshielded electronics would last very long in this atmosphere, rust and damp would destroy all of their information. Carving their history into wood might be the only method that they had to preserve it.

She tore herself away as elder stopped at a large door on the structure's face, lifting the curtain of decorative beads and shells with his long arm, creating a sound like rain hitting a tin roof. He was inviting them inside, and Lena didn't even need to duck as she walked beneath the giant alien and into the building proper.

It was dark inside, and expansive, the ceiling extending high above her head and the walls so far away that she could scarcely make them out in the gloom. The circular space must have been about fifty feet wide, large enough to accommodate a whole lot of Krell at once, and the roof was high enough that even the larger elders wouldn't risk bashing their heads on low hanging beams. It smelled musty and old, and there was a sense of reverence, as if this was some kind of holy place. She was almost scared to speak, as if she might somehow disturb the peace.

It was cooler inside, and the walls went some way towards keeping out the humidity, not that it could have been described as dry. She could make out the pale trunks of the ancient trees as they pushed through the walls and rose towards the ceiling. Either they had breached the walls over the years or the structure had been built around them. Some of the higher branches had curled around the rafters, almost like vines in their own right, pushing through the roof and disappearing from view in their never ending climb towards the sky. They were an integral part of the structure now. It was quite beautiful to see the ways in which the Krell lived in harmony with nature.

The elder passed them, moving off into the cavernous room as Lena stood beside Sleethe and watched. His tail sounded like a burlap sack being dragged across cement as it trailed behind him, it was like a damned train car made of flesh. If the alien were to lie on his belly, he would have been as long as a city bus. His footsteps shook the floorboards beneath her, every vibration traveling through the damp wood and up her legs.

It was too dark to see what the elder was doing, but she heard something that sounded like two stones being struck against one another. Suddenly there was a flare of orange flame, its flickering light dancing across the uneven walls and casting deep shadows. The elder lifted a long staff made from a twisted branch, one end wrapped in some kind of cloth, which was now burning brightly. He lumbered around the circumference of the room, lighting torches as he went, until Lena found herself encircled by two dozen of the burning balls of fire. It did a decent job of illuminating the room, they didn't have electricity and so this was the next best thing.

She wondered briefly if the open flames posed a danger in this wooden city, but everything was so damp that she doubted the fire would ever catch. The torches must have been soaked in something flammable, as they burned brightly.

Now she could get a better look at the interior. As was customary for Krell, there were sleeping pits dotted about the floor. The aliens liked to sleep in recesses in the ground, and so they carved out Krell-sized bowls and lined them with soft cushions. They usually slept half a dozen individuals to one pit, huddling for warmth when they were forced to leave their beloved heat lamps.

The interior was just as intricately decorated as the exterior, with more carvings and symbols etched into every available surface. There were clay cauldrons lining the far wall too, large enough that a person could have climbed inside one, and she wondered if they were used for cooking. The elder set down his staff and dipped his long arm into one of the pots. When he withdrew it, she saw that he was cupping a handful of what looked like red-brown ochre or clay. Those pots contained the pigments that they used to apply their tribal markings.

Lena turned on her translator again, eager to pick up on the conversation as the elder plodded back over to where her and Sleethe were waiting. She adjusted her earbud and listened intently as the Krell stood before them. First the elder bumped heads with Sleethe, the two rumbling in low tones that the translator could not decipher, as they corresponded to no words or phrases that were logged in its database. It was like an Eskimo kiss between two giant crocodiles, and then the elder withdrew.

"You are as kin," he said, her translator finally pulling its weight.

Next he smeared some of the red ochre on his fingers, and reached out towards Sleethe's scaly forehead. He drew a symbol there, like two crossing snakes, one that Lena recognized immediately. This was the same ceremony that the elder of the previous village had performed, the one that she had assumed to be some kind of marriage or bonding ritual.

Sleethe seemed oddly reverent as the elder pulled back to examine his handiwork, the rune bright and prominent against his spinach-colored scales. Next the giant moved towards Lena. He dropped to one knee to get down to her height, the floorboards bouncing beneath her as he shifted his weight. He brought his snout down towards her face as if he was going to swallow her whole, but instead he sniffed her curiously.

He seemed especially interested in her blonde hair, he might never have seen any before, and he carefully removed her hat like he was plucking it from the head of a doll. He ran his many fingers through the blonde strands, Lena tensing up as she felt his dull claws on her scalp. He lowered himself even further, pressing his monstrous forehead against hers, the same greeting that he had given Sleethe and some of the other Krell villagers. His head was about two feet wide, his hide as rough and leathery as tree bark, but he was gentle enough that he didn't knock her off balance.

"You are as kin," the translator interpreted, his rumbling tones shaking her bones at such close range.

She watched as he smeared more of the red clay on his fingers, and then she closed her eyes reflexively as he brought his hand towards her face. She felt his rough digits on her skin, tough and scaly, and when she opened her eyes again he was finished.