Planet Zar: Nexus

⦿ Here's the thing about a burgeoning new nidus cobbled together for the sole purpose of fixing a dying planet: There was always something to do. Things needed fixing, other things needed to be made, and there were always at least a dozen minds arguing about how to do any of it.

⦿

⦿For a species of highly telepathic aliens, Quench thought the murdon spent an awful lot of time debating with each other instead of getting things done. Quench couldn't stand it.

⦿She, and several other apprentices, waded uselessly in the shallow waters while a bunch of (not aquatic!) murdon argued on the beach over a pair of burst hydroponic filtraters. Most of the argument was quiet - Quench could only tell communication was on the go from how much arm-waving was happening. And with murdon, there were lots of arms to wave. Being kept out of the loop made her scales itch. The broken filter burbled agony right below her.

⦿She knew how to fix it. She was good with her hands and she had the mind for that stuff. Blueprints and tool working. This was just what Quench was training for - the maintenance ala, here to help wherever she could.

⦿It was all noise pollution now. The filter's dying gurgles, the screech of clanging metal - the shifting restlessness of the apprentices.

⦿ Quench glanced around at her fellow students, eyes narrowed sharply. A few of them were fooling around, a couple were dozing, only a handful were trying to pay attention to the murdon themselves. No one was looking at her.

⦿ Well. Good.

⦿ Quench swung her toolbag over her neck, dove beneath the surf, and torpedoed toward the broken filters.

⦿She'd done well with filters and piping in her practicums. She knew what she was doing.

⦿The burst filter was deep beneath the compound, through muddy, silty water. She caught a glimpse of black metal and swam toward it until her shoulder brushed the piping. From there, she could follow the pipe and cacophonous burbling to the broken filter.

⦿The pipes led deeper down until the weak brown sunlight blotted to absolute darkness - the looming shadow of rock above her head. Quench swam on. Walls - metal and stone - gripped her shoulders and squeezed her. Cold foam blasted her face. She was there. The current turned to a series of jets, pistoling her hide bruise-sharp.

⦿She was blind and deafened to anything but the rampant rush of water. But she could feel.

⦿ Quench wriggled through the close, claws outstretched and tail slapping stone.

⦿She finds the filter, swing her toolbag off her shoulders, reaching instinctively for the correct tools. She had to work it by feel alone. Her gills fluttered as she concentrated, treading water while squished between rock wall and the metal sheeting of the apparatus.

⦿Time ticked by as she felt, twisted, pushed, and snapped. Then the angry gurgle stopped. The noise turned to a whisper pleasant hum. The filter was fixed.

⦿Quench grinned, proud of herself. With the bubbles fading it was easier to see her work, though the light was dim.What was the point of all that time wasting and arguing when this was all she had to do?

⦿Quench turned around. Or tried to. She was wedged too close between the pipes and the rock wall. She was small, even for a dragon, but even so she couldn't wiggle around in the tight space.

⦿She had to keep calm. Panicking would only make things worse.

⦿Quench steeled herself and tried to shove backwards through the crevice. She didn't budge.

⦿She tossed her toolbag off her torso and tried again with a pang of loss. Those were expensive and the decurios wouldn't be happy she lost her things - but she had to get out.

⦿Metal groaned. Water hissed.

⦿ Quench blubbed "oh no" as the new seal she put on the filter screeched open, releasing a blast of dirty black water directly into her face.

⦿ She was going to drown down here. The muck caked her gills, blocking the fresh water from washing over them. She was blind again, mouth and nose caked in film. She thrashed, beating her tail, digging her claws into the ledge.

⦿ Something grabbed the end of her tail.

⦿ Quench burbled, bubbles bursting from her mouth. She had little experience with the sea creatures of Zar but getting eaten tail first wasn't her ideal introduction.

⦿ The thing at her tail tugged, and tugged, and tugged until Quench scraped through the crevice and into danger's maw. She spun, free floating, disoriented, barely able to see. Clean water rushed over her gills and she gurgled for oxygen.

⦿ :: That was very stupid :: rumbled a familiar voice, the tone warm and calming.

⦿ Something soft and strong nudged Quench's side until she rightened herself.

⦿ Dikeledi, the hippocampus and one of her many teachers, eyed her with a stern expression.

⦿:: You saved me :: said Quench.

⦿ :: Not from the punishment you're about to get. ::

⦿ Quench is escorted before the council of decurios, her head ducked low. She knows she's messed up bad. Not only didn't she fix the filter, she lost her tools, nearly drowned, and interrupted negotiations to cause a search party.

⦿ She admits to her mistakes before the council, not expecting (or asking for) forgiveness. She knows she has a lot to make up for.

⦿ Punishment is swift -

⦿ "You will be assigned to tool repair and cleaning for the foreseeable future."

⦿ Quench agrees without argument.

⦿"And you'll be sent off world for a period of time."

⦿Quench snaps her head up at that, trying and failing to hide a puzzled expression.

⦿"Decurio Dikeledi believes it will test your character. We will see."

⦿The council is dismissed.

⦿ Quench slinks off to the beach. Off world? For how long? Why would that test her character? She's full of questions she's afraid to ask. She receives hard, judging stares everywhere she goes. She wants to flee back under the ocean… but perhaps not quite as deep.

⦿ She spots Dikeledi basking in the shallow water, nose raised to the sun. His ears twitch as she approaches. She really doesn't want to ask him any questions either.

⦿ But she does anyway.

⦿ "When do I have to leave?"

⦿ Dikeledi turns to face her. His expression is difficult to read, she's not used to socializing with equids.

⦿ "We are leaving tomorrow," Dikeledi responds.

⦿ "We?"

⦿ "To Syl'Neriss and Lantessama. To learn responsibility." He pauses with a snort that might be laughter, could be derision. "And some patience."

⦿ Quench frowns. "Everyone was just talking and I knew I could do it."

⦿ Dikeledi frowns.

⦿ "Well, I thought I could do it. I almost did."

⦿ "We needed a telekinetic to go down there, that's how it got built in the first place. There was nothing for you to do until that got sorted out."

⦿ Quench frowned. She could have been sent on a different task rather than standing around waiting and wasting so much time. The leaders should communicate these things better.

⦿ "I've never been to Lantessama," said Quench after a long pause.

⦿ "Nor have I, but I've heard nothing but lovely stories and there's an excellent clutch of nekrats looking for candidates. Bonding might be just what you need."

⦿ "Bonding?!" Quench's ears perk. That sounds more like a reward than a punishment. She tries to keep the excitement from her face. She always expected to pick up a bond from Zar or one of the planets nearby satellites - and not until she was finished her apprenticeship in the maintenance ala.

⦿ "To learn responsibility and patience." Dikeledi gives her a significant look.

⦿ Quench nods eagerly.

⦿ "Go pack your things. You're on tool repair duty tonight, so you best put the last of your freetime to good use."

⦿ Dikeldi bobs along the surface of the water, diving through the sapphire waves and twisting between glorious coral. He breaks the surf with a splash of diamond droplets and shakes his mane before turning to the young man standing at the beach.

⦿ "You have a beautiful home," he says.

⦿ The man grins," I like to think so."

⦿ The man is Donriven, and Dikeledi has come to know him briefly in the few days he's been at Lantessama. His Tiger's Eye dragon Enisk soars and loops above them. Donriven laughs at his antics.

⦿ "Dikeledi!" a voice shrieks from down the beach. "Help!"

⦿ Quench tears toward them at a full gallop, kicking up sand. Dikeledi wants to run to her but he's awkward on land, dragging his tail behind him like a sack of rocks.

⦿ Donriven starts towards her, then stops and laughs again. His lack of concern eases Dikeledi's worry.

⦿ As Quench approaches, Dikeledi spots a half dozen brightly colored bubbles following fast behind her. Quench ducks and dekes around them, her eyes wild with worry.

⦿ "Oh, she's in for a treat," says Donriven between chuckles. "She found some dragonders."

⦿ "Dragonders?" Dikeledi cocks his head.

⦿ "Like little dragon-fish. They've got a bit of magic and they love dragons. Sometimes they attach themselves to candidates, and it looks like your young friend has gathered quite the posse."

⦿ "Oh dear," says Dikeledi.

⦿ Quench reaches them, panting, and rushes for the water. The bubbles careen after her a burst into a rainbow of little finned creatures. They chirp a merry tune and swarm Quench - but there isn't a bit of violence in any of them. They splash around her and nuzzle against her. Finally, Quench seems to relax.

⦿ "I guess they're not so bad."

⦿ "You're stuck with them now, kid," says Donriven.

⦿ Even here, she manages to find trouble to get into.

⦿ Dikeledi nearly misses the little white head that pops above the water near his flank.

⦿ "Ah," he says. "Hello there."

⦿ The tiny dragoner squeaks in reply and zips closer.