Humans are Weird - Judgement
Fourteenth Trill woke to a throbbing pain in his hindmost horns and twitched his nose in discomfort. He stretched a wing out to feel for his nearest wingmate, and then stretched further, and further, with his wings spread awkwardly he finally opened his eyes and looked around blearily in the crisp morning air. The rest of the wing was huddled along the north side of the perch tree, clearly seeking shelter from the earthy scented morning air in the lee of Brock’s massive coat. Fourteenth Trill grumbled to himself as he started to shuffle his paws along the branch. Someone might have poked him in the neck to let him know about the shift.
He paused and took another look at the huddled mass as a thermal of a thought filtered up to him. There were inside what was supposed to be a sealed base with a fully functional life support system. Why was it cold enough to induce a huddle at all? He heaved a sigh and stretched out his wings fully, exposing his winghooks to the nipping cold. He stretched out first one foot-paw and then the other before leaping off his perch and flying down to the always active display for the life support controls. He flipped up the cover from the read out and glared down at the Ranger Corps standard language display.
“And nothing is wrong,” he muttered to himself.
Every single readout and setting was displaying accurate reading and placement. But the vents to the outside air were fully open, letting the temperature drop far below the preferred levels. He probably should wait for Brock to wake up before fixing this. It wasn’t cold enough that they had to worry about hypothermia, but it was still cold, and as Wing Commander Fourteenth Trill he did have the authority. He cranked the control knob all the way over to the ground setting and stepped on the power button. The display briefly blinked off and Fourteenth Trill lightly clicked his winghook against the knob twelve times before pressing the power button and returning the knob to its previous position. Around him the system hummed and the soft clicking of the windows cycling shut promised the return of warmth. He was about to return to the sleeping wing but hesitated.
It was unlikely that any of the humans had noticed the temperature change. With their massive thermal banks, and bundled under their covering blankets they would probably have slept on unaffected even if the base temperature had reached equilibrium with the outside air. Heaving a sigh Wing Commander Fourteenth Click leapt up into the cold air and flew around the corner to where the massive mammals were currently slumbering under their blankets. That is, all except for Chief Engineer Brock Evelyn, whose massive head was raised, and whose face was pouting at something on the floor our of Fourteenth Trill’s line of sight.
Relieved that he wouldn’t have to wake the human and curious as to what had drawn that look from the fully adult mammal, Fourteenth Trill gave a quick sounding click into that corner of the room, and grimaced as he landed on a high window ledge where it would be easy for Brock to see him. That terrifying beast, three times the size of a Winged, full of far too many razor sharp teeth, and seemingly possessed of mind control over the humans in the base if that was possible, was coiled up returning the human’s gaze from the distant, dark corner of the room. One of its paws was placed on the body of some native rodent and its four eyes stared unblinkingly at the human. Fourteenth Trill was certain that had he been able to actually see it, the beast’s eyes would have glinted evilly as it worked it manipulations on the human.
“I keep telling Mittens that I’m diurnal,” Brock said in a whisper. “But the little goober keeps judging me! He thinks that if he is out getting meat for the winter at second moon-rise, I should be too.”
“I am judging you right now,” Fourteenth Trill pointed out, “but you are not looking at me.”
“For not being awake yet?” Brock asked rotating his head to flash his broad, flat teeth in a grin.
“For being awake when you should be sleeping,” Fourteenth Trill corrected him.
“Eh,” the human grunted, but started settling back onto its sleeping surface. “Judge away. You ain’t nearly as cute as Mittens. He’s got those soulful eyes.”
Fourteenth Trill licked in teeth in exasperation.
“You didn’t come in here just to scold me ‘bout my sleep schedule,” Brock offered with a yawn.
“The life-support system opened the windows again,” Fourteenth Trill replied.
“Did’ja log it?” Brock asked, his eyes blinking slowly.
“I will,” Fourteenth Trill confirmed.
“You little guys warm enough?” Brock asked.
“We are using your coat for a temporary shelter, but yes.” Fourteenth Trill said.
“S’fine,” Brock said with another yawn. “Should keep you plenty warm. I’ll start the seasonal system debug tomorrow and see if I can find-hey!” The human suddenly perked up. “Want me to send Mittens over? He’s got plenty of body heat to spare and can drape himself over the perch tree just fine.”
“No!” Fourteenth Trill said, feeling every touch of fur on his body stiffen and fluff out.
“Suit yourself,” Brock said with a yawn before dropping back to sleep.
Fourteenth Trill gave a final click into the dark corner, and was disconcerted to find only the torn body of the local rodent and no sign of Mittens. With a grunt he reminded himself that the creature really posed no danger to a Winged and took off for the sleep perch. He found a spot in the gradually loosening huddle by the medic and landed. He hung there for a few long, cold moments before jabbing the medic with his winghook. The medic grumbled but opened one eye.
“Do you really think that the Chief Engineer values the judgment of Mittens over me? A sapient being. A Wing Commander. His personal friend?” Fourteenth Trill demanded.
The medic blinked at him, gave a massive yawn, and very understandably really, lowered his head and gave him a solid headbutt before snuggling back into sleeping mass of the wing.
He paused and took another look at the huddled mass as a thermal of a thought filtered up to him. There were inside what was supposed to be a sealed base with a fully functional life support system. Why was it cold enough to induce a huddle at all? He heaved a sigh and stretched out his wings fully, exposing his winghooks to the nipping cold. He stretched out first one foot-paw and then the other before leaping off his perch and flying down to the always active display for the life support controls. He flipped up the cover from the read out and glared down at the Ranger Corps standard language display.
“And nothing is wrong,” he muttered to himself.
Every single readout and setting was displaying accurate reading and placement. But the vents to the outside air were fully open, letting the temperature drop far below the preferred levels. He probably should wait for Brock to wake up before fixing this. It wasn’t cold enough that they had to worry about hypothermia, but it was still cold, and as Wing Commander Fourteenth Trill he did have the authority. He cranked the control knob all the way over to the ground setting and stepped on the power button. The display briefly blinked off and Fourteenth Trill lightly clicked his winghook against the knob twelve times before pressing the power button and returning the knob to its previous position. Around him the system hummed and the soft clicking of the windows cycling shut promised the return of warmth. He was about to return to the sleeping wing but hesitated.
It was unlikely that any of the humans had noticed the temperature change. With their massive thermal banks, and bundled under their covering blankets they would probably have slept on unaffected even if the base temperature had reached equilibrium with the outside air. Heaving a sigh Wing Commander Fourteenth Click leapt up into the cold air and flew around the corner to where the massive mammals were currently slumbering under their blankets. That is, all except for Chief Engineer Brock Evelyn, whose massive head was raised, and whose face was pouting at something on the floor our of Fourteenth Trill’s line of sight.
Relieved that he wouldn’t have to wake the human and curious as to what had drawn that look from the fully adult mammal, Fourteenth Trill gave a quick sounding click into that corner of the room, and grimaced as he landed on a high window ledge where it would be easy for Brock to see him. That terrifying beast, three times the size of a Winged, full of far too many razor sharp teeth, and seemingly possessed of mind control over the humans in the base if that was possible, was coiled up returning the human’s gaze from the distant, dark corner of the room. One of its paws was placed on the body of some native rodent and its four eyes stared unblinkingly at the human. Fourteenth Trill was certain that had he been able to actually see it, the beast’s eyes would have glinted evilly as it worked it manipulations on the human.
“I keep telling Mittens that I’m diurnal,” Brock said in a whisper. “But the little goober keeps judging me! He thinks that if he is out getting meat for the winter at second moon-rise, I should be too.”
“I am judging you right now,” Fourteenth Trill pointed out, “but you are not looking at me.”
“For not being awake yet?” Brock asked rotating his head to flash his broad, flat teeth in a grin.
“For being awake when you should be sleeping,” Fourteenth Trill corrected him.
“Eh,” the human grunted, but started settling back onto its sleeping surface. “Judge away. You ain’t nearly as cute as Mittens. He’s got those soulful eyes.”
Fourteenth Trill licked in teeth in exasperation.
“You didn’t come in here just to scold me ‘bout my sleep schedule,” Brock offered with a yawn.
“The life-support system opened the windows again,” Fourteenth Trill replied.
“Did’ja log it?” Brock asked, his eyes blinking slowly.
“I will,” Fourteenth Trill confirmed.
“You little guys warm enough?” Brock asked.
“We are using your coat for a temporary shelter, but yes.” Fourteenth Trill said.
“S’fine,” Brock said with another yawn. “Should keep you plenty warm. I’ll start the seasonal system debug tomorrow and see if I can find-hey!” The human suddenly perked up. “Want me to send Mittens over? He’s got plenty of body heat to spare and can drape himself over the perch tree just fine.”
“No!” Fourteenth Trill said, feeling every touch of fur on his body stiffen and fluff out.
“Suit yourself,” Brock said with a yawn before dropping back to sleep.
Fourteenth Trill gave a final click into the dark corner, and was disconcerted to find only the torn body of the local rodent and no sign of Mittens. With a grunt he reminded himself that the creature really posed no danger to a Winged and took off for the sleep perch. He found a spot in the gradually loosening huddle by the medic and landed. He hung there for a few long, cold moments before jabbing the medic with his winghook. The medic grumbled but opened one eye.
“Do you really think that the Chief Engineer values the judgment of Mittens over me? A sapient being. A Wing Commander. His personal friend?” Fourteenth Trill demanded.
The medic blinked at him, gave a massive yawn, and very understandably really, lowered his head and gave him a solid headbutt before snuggling back into sleeping mass of the wing.
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