Post by Karska Gl'aldiia on Jan 23, 2016 18:39:06 GMT -7
New Starhaven’s largest public trading hub hummed below in a vibrant swirl of bright activity so intense that it could’ve nearly rivaled the sheer insanity that was Dusk’s Band’s intergalactic landing port. Admittedly, the airspace was much less hectic, though Karska still anxiously hung onto the very edge of his seat with both eyes peeled in his consol’s display visor. Crashes, bumps and lovetaps were definitely viable --albeit unfortunate and unwanted-- options.
One never knew when idiots were at the helm.
“Gra’al’krr’tah aii.” A frustrated, gurgle-like sentiment that translated to something distantly akin to curse words was breathed through the Garrsali’s teeth. His lips cocked backwards over gleaming gums the colour of dull amaranths, and his facial muscles displayed something that humanoids would likely perceive as aggression, though Karska was simply impatient in truth.
And rightly so, considering he’d been waiting here in the docking queue for nearly a full Martian sol. Almost 24 and ½ hours by count --the times of which were displayed blaringly to the right of his dashboard. He’d taken the vast majority of the time to fully review his standardized digital packet of English phrases, though he’d had enough time to try out his tongue on a few key Mandarin and Spanish words as well. Committing them to memory would be vital if he wanted to complete his Martian soil survey in a timely manner.
“Whoarr.. Haow arr. How’are yoo?” Karska trilled in from memory what he hoped was a high, pleasant human voice, though his throat quickly flushed with blood as the cartoonish representative of a native English speaker popped up in the corner of his visor to deliver the correct pronunciation. The letter ‘U’ almost bothered him as much as the letters ‘P’ and ‘B’. Common Garrasli rarely relied on noises made at the front of the mouth, though biologically, it was possible for his lips to formulate the proper positions for the correct noises.
“HOW. Are yoo. How are yo-U --how are yOU.” He repeated in rapid fire succession without inflection, teeth clicking with the forceful accentuation of his speech --unwilling to let the digital human representative scold him for mispronunciation until he got it right. “How are you.”
“How are you?” The high-pitched voice echoed as the pink face in his visor tilted its head while both cheeks became very pronounced and the mouth curved upwards at both ends. It was always doing that. The guide had given him a crash course in ‘smiling’, as well as other polite human gestures, though the frequency with which the smile seemed to be used in this culture was almost unnerving.
Karska grumbled in response before exhaling nasally in a frustrated, bone-dry rattle. With a flick of his fingers, the image of his digital tutor warbled before disappearing entirely. It wasn’t perfect, but it was at least recognizable coming from a creature that didn’t even know what English was until last week.
A flashing light quickly pulled his attention to the center of his dashboard, and without any particular ceremony, Karska spoke the short command for the incoming contact request to be relayed to him inside his visor. A static image flicked and fizzled briefly before a real human face suddenly filled his vision. The Garrsali still couldn’t quite tell male from female, but the voice that reached him was slightly lower in pitch than his cartoon tutor’s had been.
“You have been cleared for landing. Please carefully guide your craft down into the spot on dock 32 labeled ‘1229-D’ in yellow, and allow the grapplers to stabilize you before turning off all power. Welcome to New Starhaven.” Images of his landing area flashed before Karska’s eyes, and he made sure to screenshot and commit them to memory as the call ended.
“New Starhaven.” Karska repeated, adopting an elated head bobbing motion as he parakeeted the human’s high voice. “Thank yOU.”
Down his ship went, gently drifting and weaving amongst the in-atmospheric traffic before concentrating fully on following his instructions. Words that he didn’t know were run by his translator after being played back by his recorder, though thankfully he didn’t need to do a whole lot of guesswork; this dock’s grappling system was fairly straightforward.
After the power had been killed, Karska rose from his comfortable cushions with a soft gurgle of reluctance. Next was headgear and lockup.
On the heavy technological headpiece went, though no matter how many times he slid those thin elastic tubes up his nostrils, he swore he’d never get used to it. Although Mars was in the midst of being terraformed, the Garrsali was still used to atmospheres that were slightly richer in oxygen than humans tended to need or like, hence the horrid nasal tubes.
With a quick shake to ensure the gear’s security, Karska rattled off the voice commands and passwords required to boot it up. The initial blackness of his visor suddenly came to life, and his vision was filled with the surroundings of the inside of his ship. A corner window of semi-transparent lettering displayed clear air quality statistics, including other essential functions linked to various features.
Slowly, the corners of Karska’s mouth creeped upwards in what he hoped was a friendly smile, though it was admittedly a little difficult to hide his teeth.
Yikes.
As soon as the ramp lowered, Karska walked down to the dock, the pads of his spade-like feet spreading softly to accompany his weight. Automatically, the ramp slid back up after he stepped away, and the doors closed --the sudden whirr of air signifying that his craft was now locked and sealed.
Right... On to the task of soil.
WC: 940
One never knew when idiots were at the helm.
“Gra’al’krr’tah aii.” A frustrated, gurgle-like sentiment that translated to something distantly akin to curse words was breathed through the Garrsali’s teeth. His lips cocked backwards over gleaming gums the colour of dull amaranths, and his facial muscles displayed something that humanoids would likely perceive as aggression, though Karska was simply impatient in truth.
And rightly so, considering he’d been waiting here in the docking queue for nearly a full Martian sol. Almost 24 and ½ hours by count --the times of which were displayed blaringly to the right of his dashboard. He’d taken the vast majority of the time to fully review his standardized digital packet of English phrases, though he’d had enough time to try out his tongue on a few key Mandarin and Spanish words as well. Committing them to memory would be vital if he wanted to complete his Martian soil survey in a timely manner.
“Whoarr.. Haow arr. How’are yoo?” Karska trilled in from memory what he hoped was a high, pleasant human voice, though his throat quickly flushed with blood as the cartoonish representative of a native English speaker popped up in the corner of his visor to deliver the correct pronunciation. The letter ‘U’ almost bothered him as much as the letters ‘P’ and ‘B’. Common Garrasli rarely relied on noises made at the front of the mouth, though biologically, it was possible for his lips to formulate the proper positions for the correct noises.
“HOW. Are yoo. How are yo-U --how are yOU.” He repeated in rapid fire succession without inflection, teeth clicking with the forceful accentuation of his speech --unwilling to let the digital human representative scold him for mispronunciation until he got it right. “How are you.”
“How are you?” The high-pitched voice echoed as the pink face in his visor tilted its head while both cheeks became very pronounced and the mouth curved upwards at both ends. It was always doing that. The guide had given him a crash course in ‘smiling’, as well as other polite human gestures, though the frequency with which the smile seemed to be used in this culture was almost unnerving.
Karska grumbled in response before exhaling nasally in a frustrated, bone-dry rattle. With a flick of his fingers, the image of his digital tutor warbled before disappearing entirely. It wasn’t perfect, but it was at least recognizable coming from a creature that didn’t even know what English was until last week.
A flashing light quickly pulled his attention to the center of his dashboard, and without any particular ceremony, Karska spoke the short command for the incoming contact request to be relayed to him inside his visor. A static image flicked and fizzled briefly before a real human face suddenly filled his vision. The Garrsali still couldn’t quite tell male from female, but the voice that reached him was slightly lower in pitch than his cartoon tutor’s had been.
“You have been cleared for landing. Please carefully guide your craft down into the spot on dock 32 labeled ‘1229-D’ in yellow, and allow the grapplers to stabilize you before turning off all power. Welcome to New Starhaven.” Images of his landing area flashed before Karska’s eyes, and he made sure to screenshot and commit them to memory as the call ended.
“New Starhaven.” Karska repeated, adopting an elated head bobbing motion as he parakeeted the human’s high voice. “Thank yOU.”
Down his ship went, gently drifting and weaving amongst the in-atmospheric traffic before concentrating fully on following his instructions. Words that he didn’t know were run by his translator after being played back by his recorder, though thankfully he didn’t need to do a whole lot of guesswork; this dock’s grappling system was fairly straightforward.
After the power had been killed, Karska rose from his comfortable cushions with a soft gurgle of reluctance. Next was headgear and lockup.
On the heavy technological headpiece went, though no matter how many times he slid those thin elastic tubes up his nostrils, he swore he’d never get used to it. Although Mars was in the midst of being terraformed, the Garrsali was still used to atmospheres that were slightly richer in oxygen than humans tended to need or like, hence the horrid nasal tubes.
With a quick shake to ensure the gear’s security, Karska rattled off the voice commands and passwords required to boot it up. The initial blackness of his visor suddenly came to life, and his vision was filled with the surroundings of the inside of his ship. A corner window of semi-transparent lettering displayed clear air quality statistics, including other essential functions linked to various features.
Slowly, the corners of Karska’s mouth creeped upwards in what he hoped was a friendly smile, though it was admittedly a little difficult to hide his teeth.
Yikes.
As soon as the ramp lowered, Karska walked down to the dock, the pads of his spade-like feet spreading softly to accompany his weight. Automatically, the ramp slid back up after he stepped away, and the doors closed --the sudden whirr of air signifying that his craft was now locked and sealed.
Right... On to the task of soil.
WC: 940
