Chaper 3: Not Dead, yet…

As if on some strange, otherworldly queue, the dream ends as he slowly awakens. He groggily looks around, and realizes he isn't bound. He sits up on his elbow, and his head swoons in agony. His free hand rises to his temple, and feels the hot sticky mess that is the bloodied knot on his head from where the silhouette struck him. The room he is in is modest, but not primitively so. The walls are intentionally smooth, and he's laying on a bed of some sort with rough, but clean linens. He listens, and hears voices outside.

"Grunguk."

His eyes dart around the room. Nothing else is in here, just a bed and walls. Shit wheres my fucking kit! He attempts to get to his feet, when he actually understands something said, though the voice is not speaking Terran, he can understand the meaning of the words.

"Yes, I know" A clear and powerful voice resonates outside the room.

"Grungugugunk. Riibbbbbbigunk."

"Of course, thank you" Where has he heard this voice before?

"Grungugunk." Was that croak...pleased?

"You will have no bad harvests this year or the next. No hunger shall ever befall you, or your children, or your children's children."

And then the air rippled.

"You're lucky they recognized your USF badge on your shirt,'' one of Nihlathak's eldyr comments as she slowly dabs Pok's forehead with a cool washcloth. His clubbing resulted in a gash that would leave a scar, but it would heal cleanly.

"Lucky? With luck like this, who needs misfortune, huh? First my fucking squad mates ditch me, then I fucking nearly drown, then I nearly starve cuz ‘Fuck Pok, no space gorilla burgers for you’, and THEN I get fucking nearly clubbed to death!" Pok exclaims. "BY FUCKING FROG BUMPKINS!"

"And now, you're in the home of the great and wise Nihlathak, where you can feel no pain, and will recover, and be given safe passage home to your people." She calmly, yet confidently reminds him. "Clearly, you have the devil's luck."

It had been 2 weeks since the exchange of Pok to Nihlathak, and his strength was returning. Unfortunately, he had to wait for the next shipment of sparks before he'd be able to ride a freighter home. Not that Pok really minded. The food was slimy yet strangely palatable, and it was nice to relax for a change and be waited on. But today was finally the day.

He was given fresh clothes, which were not USF issue, but instead, those of Nihlathak's retainers, and was given a crude but functional wheel chair made out of the remains of the one he kept in his Schneider, plus a few scraped together parts. The most frustrating part was the mismatching wheels, somehow one of his had gone missing at the crash site.

Nihlathak did not speak to Pok at his departure, but instead handed him a leather strap neckchain with a strange smooth blue stone on it, and gave the slightest of head bows. Pok received the gift with humility, knowing better than to mouth off to a Truth Speaker. Fuck he was still surprised they actually existed, and here one had given him something.

"What is this?"

But Nihlathak did not reply, only smiled gently. Fucking weird ass space mythology, Pok mused. Nihlathak's eye met his suddenly, and Pok immediately froze, wondering if he somehow heard his thoughts.