An Immigration Issue
- 1 year ago
- 7
- 0
Lost With Nothing To Lose02: Immigration Control free porn video
Flags are bits of colored cloth that governments
use first to shrink-wrap people’s minds
and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the dead.
Arundhati Roy
“Move it along,” the next security officer ordered. The sounds of their ship being torn apart echoed through the short airlock and into the connecting port of the security vessel. Assuming the lead role, Al led the others as they were directed through the airlock and into the ship.
“What do you think we’ll—” Xi whispered in English from behind.
“Please, speak Tandori,” Al insisted, speaking in a normal tone. “We’re here now, we’re not going back, and we don’t want them to think we’re hiding anything. All our cards are on the table, so let’s be honest in our approach.”
Once through the airlock, Al stopped to help the others through, to the consternation of their guards, but he insisted. Once everyone was safely across, they continued again. Since the nearest guard was waiting down the hall, Xi tried again.
“What should we expect?”
“You know as much as I do, but anticipate suspicion, skepticism and doubt. It’s up to us to convince them we’re legit. Our future depends on it.”
Since the walls were black with largely meaningless designations—indecipherable, despite their ability to read Tandori—Al doubted they could manage it back on their own. The surfaces curved, with varying grades, rather than the smooth galleys and corridors they were familiar with on their own ship.
Motioning them towards a small room, another guard waved a hand by each of them, his ring glowing in different colors. From the way he responded, Al was sure he was being briefed on much more about them than was apparent.
‘His ring is transferring data from our nanobots, which he’s passing on,’ Zita informed him, ‘though it’s apparently having trouble deciphering the feedback from our older devices.’ As their communications officer, Zita’s augmented talent was telepathy. They hadn’t tested the extent of her range, but she was able to communicate with Lamar and Mui when they worked on the exterior of the ship during their voyage.
‘You can hear the exchange?‘
‘No. Xi recognized the responses. Eli’s providing the likely details. There are some telltale indicators, even across such disparate species.’
‘We’re not sure they’re different species yet, though I’m growing doubtful we’re even partially Tandorian.’
Once sure they were searched, the guard led them into a large room containing three tables staffed by unarmed administrators—two females and one male. They were the same species as the security officers, looking equally as fierce.
“Who’s the Alpha?” the woman at the first table demanded.
“I am,” Al said, stepping forward. “My name is Al. I’m the ship’s commander. I speak for everyone here.”
She glanced at him oddly, his speech as bizarre to her as hers was to them. “You’re an Intuit?”
“I am, and I was the one who directed us here.”
“Go to the furthest table,” she instructed, pointing with one of her dagger-like fingers on one of her four arms. “You’ll be handled separately. It will take time to process the others.”
The communications were tricky. Though each of the humans spoke Tandori, their understanding of its nuances was rudimentary. Most of their knowledge came from their nanobots, which triggered specific regions in the brain associated with English words, forming rough translations within their minds. They actually heard both languages simultaneously, though it didn’t help decipher phrases which didn’t correlate. Especially since the language had changed so much over the intervening centuries. Concepts such as distances, time and facial cues operated the same way, triggering responsive cells in their own brains, making it seem as if they were their own thoughts. If they thought about the techniques too much, they’d develop headaches so bad they couldn’t hope to fathom what was being said. However, hearing both languages at the same time aided the learning process, so the longer they conversed, the better their understanding of the language became.
Al glanced back. Betty and Xi were looking pleadingly at him and the others looked worried as well, but he motioned for them to remain calm before he set off for the far table. Ivan and Kaci, Lamar and Mui, and Delilah and Gary were directed to the second table, while the rest remained at the first.
When the officer behind the desk glanced up at him, Al noticed he didn’t defer to him the way those in his crew did. He doubted his rank affected anyone else as it had them. He guessed it was strictly group rather than status based. Or at least, it didn’t affect security officers.
“Describe where you’re from.”
“We’re from a small planet called Earth, almost two-hundred and forty light years distant. Our ship and its original crew—”
“I’m not interested in your personal histories. I’m evaluating your value, knowledge and skills so we can categorize you. Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“This is our entire team,” Al stated.
The official stared at Al as if he was lying. “The few of you flew a ship that size across that distance, with no one else helping? I find that difficult to accept.”
“Believe it. The original crew who crashed on our planet eventually died out. They relied on local inhabitants they ... recruited for the effort. Unfortunately, without revealing what we were destined for, everyone kept getting killed before making it to the ship. We were the first intact crew to survive.”
“Yeah, it’s a common trait with Intuits. They’re always quick to take unnecessary risks, thinking they can beat the odds, which is why you’re in such high demand despite your many obvious disqualifications. While space flight is difficult enough, we’ve lost most of ours in combat, even though they anticipate attacks.” He paused, considering Al. “What about shifts? How’d you alternate crew?”
“We didn’t. I was on duty the entire journey. We spent the majority of our time learning Tandori, the Tandorian culture and all the science we’d never been exposed to.”
The administrator continued staring at him, unable to process the information. “You flew all that distance without rest? That’s impossible.”
“It’s entirely possible, and we’re the evidence it is.”
“How long did it take you to complete this supposed journey?”
“A little over five months. Which is why I’m so exhausted and thin. I had to address each crisis as it arose.”
“Wait, you traversed that distance in only that much time? Clearly you’re lying. Where did you actually come from, who do you represent, and where did they go once they dropped you off?”
“No one intervened. We’re who we say we are. If we accomplished what no one else has, it was due solely to our being too ignorant to realize it was impossible. Since I realized the time limitations, I pushed everyone so it wouldn’t take any longer than necessary. Our crew works well together, and we’re used to working around each other. As for me, when my Spidey sense tingles, everything else stops: distractions, sleep, exhaustion or love making. Whatever it took, we all kept going.”
“I have no clue as to what you just said.”
Al sighed. “When I get a premonition, it refocuses all my attention. No matter how exhausted I am, I’m one hundred percent focused on avoiding disaster. That way, I could doze in my chair, traveling faster than light nearly continuously, and still react to any emergency we faced.”
The officer grunted, obviously not buying it. “Whatever! You’re each being evaluated separately. Any rejected as being unfit,” he glanced up, sweeping a skeptical glance over the other crew members, “will be summarily denied entry. Those remaining will be assigned other tasks.”
“I’m sorry, I—” Mid-sentence, the intake officer tried to stab him with his dagger-sharp claws, but Al simply stepped aside without pausing in his recitation. “—can’t accept that. We need to remain together. We’re not only all pair-bonded, but we’ve depended on each other, risking our lives together. I can’t abandon them.”
“Nice reflexes, but the choice isn’t up to you. There are millions of previously pair-bonded individuals fighting on the front lines, and others still bonded serving in support duties here on the home planet. Such notions of pair-bondings lasting the rest of your life are antiquated. You’ll go where you’re assigned, or you’ll be eliminated.”
“I understand,” Al said, as a massive electrical discharge shot past his head as he casually stepped aside, “but I want to register an objection and request a reappraisal. If nothing else, since we’re used to working together, we should be assigned the same ship.”
“You’ll go where you’re needed. I’m guessing you aren’t up on the latest skills, and your basic understanding of our culture is minimal. As such, I doubt we’ll have much use of your crew’s services.”
“Pardon me for a moment,” Al said, holding a single finger up as he swiftly stepped away.
As he approached, Etta was leaning over the first table, filling in something on a data tablet and never even glanced up. Al, took her arm, pulling her aside.
“Excuse,” he said, as a heavy metal dart shot out of the ceiling at an angle. If she hadn’t shifted, it would have crushed her skull. What’s more, given its trajectory, it might have injured the others if Al hadn’t moved them aside in his rush to reach Etta. “That’s all I wanted. You can go back to your task now,” he said, turning and sauntering off, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water. Betty, however, flashed him a knowing smile, lightly elbowing Xi in the side.
Ofelia
- 18.09.2022
- 5
- 0
