‘WS1?’ I asked as I transferred the units to the merchant using my console.
‘Outpost. Outpost WS1,’ the Iyr explained, and then, only after checking that the units had been transferred, asked, ‘Why do you wish to head to Te’r’ok? It is an Arellian village. There are only barbarians out there.’
I shrugged. ‘Just trying to see everything while I’m on your lovely planet.’
The Iyr seemed convinced by my answer, even though I’d described Z’h’ar as a “lovely planet”, which was obviously a lie. The merchant pulled out a shuttle-bike - a dirtier, older model - and handed it to me.
‘Any chance I could get a newer one?’ I asked.
‘You paid three thousand units. Three thousand gets you this one.’
I shook my head in exasperation, sat on the bike, and started the engine.
Despite being an older model, there was still a huge kick to the acceleration when I pulled on the throttle. If I pulled on it too hard, I feared I would be sent flying off the back. It felt as though these had been designed, really, with only the heavier Iyr in mind, and not dainty and delicate tourists like myself.
As I shot through the desert, I soon saw a figure in the distance. I slowed as I passed, hoping for a glance at them, and I recognised the figure as the Arellian from earlier - the one who had been in trouble with the Iyr.
My kind of person.
We made eye contact again - only for a split second this time, though, being that I was speeding past him on a shuttle-bike. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hang around a so-called “barbarian” anyway.
The road was flat, cutting through the dunes, and took me safely west for a few kilometres. I got a chance to have another look at the outside of the city. It really was built to be imposing, I now realised - a fortress to keep the Arellians at bay.
Soon I came to a junction. A road sign, protected against the sand and dust by a sonar barrier, told me I would need to turn left for Outpost WS1. I did, just this once, as I was told.
The outpost loomed in front of me - one of the few Iyr buildings outside the city limits, which I’d earlier decided ruined the view. If it had been inside the city, it would have seemed like one of the smaller structures, however, out here in the desert, it was still large enough to be striking.
I took a breath in the shadow of the building; the heat, once again, was building and a thudding pain was growing in my head. Terrans really weren’t built for this kind of climate. I removed from my satchel my trusty water bottle and took a swig. Over six millennia of Terran civilization, and we still hadn’t come up with a better system for hydration than just carrying around water in a bag.
‘You can’t be here,’ I heard a voice call from over my shoulder. An Iyr guardsman leant out of the door to the outpost.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You cannot be here. Iyr only.’
‘I’m just taking a rest in the shade, that’s all.’
‘It does not matter. You cannot be here. You are lucky you are not an Arellian, I might have shot you.’
I shook my head. Alright, misery guts.
‘Move,’ the guardsman reiterated, moving his arm to his phaser.
I put my hands in the air. Don’t shoot!
‘Alright, alright. I’m moving, I’m moving,’ I told the guard. ‘No need to start killing tourists, yeah?’
I packed my water bottle back into my bag, took a breath, and headed back out into the heat, where my shuttle-bike was parked. My break in the shade hadn’t been enough; the sun was still bearing down hard, and the pain in my skull kept growing. I started the engine with one last look at the guard, who was still staring on - and zoomed off in a roughly south-easterly direction.
Now off-road, I had to become more confident navigating the dunes. I was hesitant at first, taking them slowly, but as soon as I became sure that the shuttle-bike could hover over the troughs sufficiently, I sped back up. Before long, I was speeding up them, jumping off the peaks, getting some air before the bike had a chance to register the change in height and plummet back down again.
If my head wasn’t pounding harder now, with the sun bearing down on it, I would have taken a longer route, enjoyed myself more; but, sadly, that was not to be. I tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my head and continued onwards.
Soon, I saw a small Arellian village in the distance. They really were like the old Terran tribal settlements: small huts, made from more primitive materials, were scattered around what resembled a central socialising area. I pulled at my throttle to get closer for a better look.
As I approached the village, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I slowed, hoping to glimpse it again, but there was nothing. My head was hurting too much to focus on anything while I was moving, so I came to a stop on the side of a dune. I put my hand to my face, trying to shield my eyes from the sun so that I could see better.
A figure was approaching - not fifty metres away. Was that… an Arellian?
The sun was higher in the sky now, and, without the shade and air conditioning units of the stronghold, I was really struggling to ignore the thumping sensation in my head. My body, too, began to feel weak, heavy.
Ack. If I was in the habit of swearing, now might be a good time.
‘Fuck,’ I tried out, ‘That hurts.’
I looked around. The Arellian was gaining on me, getting closer now. However, in the bright sunlight, as well as the reflection from the sand itself, it was almost impossible for me to see.
Why were
