Last time, two starship captains, a Ferasan and a Caitian, in pitched battle with Borg drones, took the fight through an Iconian gateway. Now they are stuck, and require the assistance of a Charr to possibly discover a way home.
It took an hour, but Flintlock agreed to help burn the bodies. The two had explained that the Borg had what was called nano probes in their system, and could start regenerating any injuries. When Flintlock compared that to the Risen, the two begrudgingly agreed. The Borg were like zombies, in a way. Without the brain munching mind you. But still, the end result was the same. Assimilation to a point.
Flintlock also learned that the two are not the same species. As she was introduced to them, Captain M’iaa T’Chall, a Caitian in command of a ship belonging to an organization called Starfleet. Captain S’Returru D’Magio, on the other hand, was a Ferasan, and a pirate with no affiliations. Begrudgingly, D’Magio explained that the services of her ship and crew were often recruited by the alliance recently made.
“So you two command sailing ships,” Flintlock said as the three sat around a newly lit camp fire. T’Chall and D’Magio remained silent for a while, glancing to each other. “What?” Flintlock asked, getting the feeling that they didn’t want to reveal everything. After all, one of them had said something about a ‘Prime Directive’ earlier. Slowly, both looked up to the sky. Flintlock’s gaze shifted up as well, as she began to realize. “Airships? You command airships? That’s amazing! I was on board an airship in the battle for Arah when Zhaitan was defeated….”
D’Magio held up a hand to stop Flintlock’s excitement. “Not airships,” she said simply. “Starships.”
“Starships?” Flintlock said with a slight quizzical look. “You mean…. you mean…. out there? Out where the stars are?”
“In deep space, yes,” D’Magio replied with a nod. She looked to her comrade for a moment. “Oh for crying out loud, T’Chall, don’t give me that look. It’s obvious that just by talking with this one person that we can conclude this is a highly intelligent species. Stop with the Prime Directive already.”
“They aren’t the only ones,” T’Chall said as she took out her tricorder. “I’m reading at least four individual species, and several lower species in the immediate area.”
“Probably Charr,” Flintlock said as she pointed to herself. “That’s what I am. And Norn. And maybe Sylvari. Most likely humans.”
D’Magio looked to T’Chall and scoffed. “Humans. They spread like a disease. They’re even here in this corner of whatever galaxy we happen to be in.”
T’Chall furrowed her brow as she put her tricorder away. “Be that as it may, we’re still stuck here, and I’d like to find a way home. If you could help us, Flintlock, we’d appreciate that a great deal.”
“You spoke of gateways before,” Flintlock said. “The Asurans make the gateway network here on Tyria. They might be able to help.”
“I’d like to do it without exposing as many people to our presence as possible,” T’Chall replied. “As you stated, Flintlock, there aren’t any Caitians or Ferasans on this planet at all. We’ll have to…” T’Chall’s speech was cut short as D’Magio rose to her feet quickly. “What is it?” T’Chall said with annoyance.
“Do you smell that?” she replied as she looked toward the north. “Do you smell that at all?”
Flintlock got to her feet and smelled, as did T’Chall. The young charr chuckled slightly. “You’re probably smelling Butcher’s Block. The home of Meatoberfest. Some of the finest barbecued, roasted, and charbroiled meats, pickled eggs, boiled beer, and everything a charr would possibly love in a festival.”
“Meat!” D’Magio said with a slightly lustfilled voice. “Tell me T’Chall. When’s the last time you had a good steak?”
“I had a 16 ounce T-bone before we started on our mission,” by this time, T’Chall was already to her feet, looking north as well. She was trying hard to keep her composure, but she looked hungry as well.
“Re-sequenced proteins and carbohydrates,” D’Magio scoffed. “You probably got it from a Starfleet replicator.”
“I don’t have the luxury of having a targ pit on my bridge,” T’Chall said with a chuckle. She looked to Flintlock. “If you could take us there. And, if it’s possible, if you have any robes that we could cover ourselves with.”
“Yes,” D’Magio added. “I don’t think it best if we’re the center of attention at a festival. Especially when I’m eating a grilled slice of meat.”
Flintlock just chuckled as she went to her Dolyak, looking for an appropriate covering that the two could wear. A good meal first, and then it would be off to Rata Sum.