MESH

[Samus Aran]

Lying in this straw bed listening to the wind buffet these stone walls is my oddest Omniverse experience so far. It’s as if I’ve gone back in time. I’ve been on rural planets before — hell, I was born on a colony that most in my universe would liken to a backwards farmstead — but to think that the technology of the Omniverse is so advanced, yet they all still live like this. I supposed to them it’s all magic, not technology, that runs the place. I suppose magic, at the end of the day, is like any other technology, with its own rules and logic, but … it’s so far-fetched. One of these days I expect to wake up in my ship and find this has all been the longest, most bizarre dream. Any day now.

But the mere fact I’m here in Camelot suggests that worlds in which there are magic and unicorns are just as real as my own. To them, I’m the unbelievable one, and my suit is just as unfathomable as their sorcery. I chuckle silently. Actually, that’s not that far from the truth.

* * * * *

I wake up to the prickly sensation in my back, immediately remembering where I am and what I’m doing. There’s a clanging and I hear movement about. The lady in the bunk above me stirs and I see her long leg drape down over my field of vision. “Time to get up innit,” she states in what I can only assume to be some local dialect. The denizens of the Omniverse might all seem speak the same language, but in his ‘wisdom’ the one named Omni hadn’t sought to unify the accents. There was a brain-boggler that I don’t think I would have been able to wrap my head around even if I was fully awake.

Across from me there’s a girl with short, curly hair and a vacant expression. Her name is Angel, I think. What a girl like her is doing in this army I have no idea — but then, I suppose appearances can be deceiving.

The girl with the long legs is called R’cheev, at least that’s what it sounds like. I have no idea how it’s spelt, or even if it’s spelt with the alphabet I’m familiar with. She has a thick head of bright red hair and rises even taller than me at what has to be at least six foot one. Her lanky frame hides a set of wiry muscles — I wouldn’t want to tangle with her without my suit. Then again, maybe I’ll have to.

The final girl, on the bunk above Angel, has blue hair — I’ve no idea if it’s dyed or natural, but I would assume Camelot isn’t big on the hair products yet. Maybe I’m wrong. I’ve not seen her speak yet so I don’t know her name. Aside from the hair she’s plain in all other features. If I had to say anything about her then I would say she was slightly plumper than the average cadet — but not enough to call thick or even husky.

Breakfast is apples and porridge. Could do worse, but I’m half-tempted to summon up a platter of something a bit more bright. Of course, it’s not like I want to flaunt my prime powers, so I reserve it for now. The point of this is not to prove myself more powerful. I could easily do that – and they would resent me for it. The point is to get to know this world better. Prove that I’m able to understand this culture and these people, the plights they face. If I’m not able to do that, I’ve failed in my duty to MESH, the Omniverse, and myself.

As I’m thinking this, R’cheev waves her spoon in my face. “So Samus, where exactly are you from?”

I’d been so busy thinking about duty, my plans to meet Aragorn, and all the people who were relying on me, that I’m flummoxed by such a simple question. My roommates stare at me with intensity as I imitate a goldfish. “Well … well … I guess I’m from a world where …” I struggle to put the million things I’d considered saying into one easy-to-understand sentence. “We have guns, not swords. Space travel is a normal thing there.”

“Space travel? Like through the cosmos? Wow, so are you some kinda … alien?”

I squirm. “Not … really, no.” Why hadn’t I just made up some kind of clever cover story? “I’m just … human.” Okay, so not entirely true. But they don’t need to know that I’m genetically modified to be some kind of bird-jellyfish-human hybrid. Something tells me that would be a bit much for the first day.

The girl with the blue hair watches with interest as the conversation progresses. I can’t help but notice that her expression remains unchanged, unlike the others. R’cheev is sitting forward in her seat and Angel’s mouth hangs open, seemingly unaware of the porridge dripping off her spoon.

I quickly change the subject. “Where are you from, R’cheev?”

“Down south,” the redhead replies proudly. “Mam and dad owns a farm, me brother was part of the war in the Moors, y’know. Said as soon as I was eighteen I’d be up here, and so I am. Got another brother and two sisters, but I’m the oldest left now.”

There’s only the faintest glimmer of sadness in her eyes. She seems determined, more than anything else. I nod as my eyes cross over to the other two.

“I’m from Minas Tirith,” says Angel. Her voice is like her namesake; she must be eighteen or more to be here but I could have mistaken her for myself at a younger age. So bright, so … ill-fit for war. She seems shy to even be talking about herself. I think about pressing her but stop. It would be rude to ask so brazenly.

“How about you, blue?” R’cheev asks the final girl. “I don’t even know your name yet.”

I turn to look as the un-named woman sinks her spoon into her porridge. She lifts it deliberately, eyes fixated on the meal before finally making eye contact with R’cheev and responding.

“You don’t need to know my name.”

R’cheev raises an eyebrow. “Okaaay. I take it you’re not from around here?”

The girl with blue hair doesn’t even respond. Exasperatedly, R’cheev rolls her eyes and turns to me. “So Samus, why are you here?”

I stir my porridge. Another tough question. “To prove myself to the Kingdom and establish ties with the leader of Camelot.” Perhaps not. “Just curious, I guess. I want to learn about more cultures and learn their fighting styles. Didn’t seem to be any better way than enlisting with the Kingdom.”

R’cheev nods vigorously and clenches a fist. “We’ll show you how good a good sword can be in the right hands!”

I smile and try not to show that a feeling of cold lead has just dropped into my stomach. In my home world it would have been hard not to smirk, but here … here I don’t know what I’m up against.

But that’s also why you’re here, Samus, I remind myself. And the trembling in my stomach slows to a cold shiver. I shut my eyes and steel myself.

“Breakfast’s over, ladies and girls!” Lunch yells to the room at large. “Recruits, you’re with me!”

I stand up before any of the others. It’s time to go.