Name: shadowsong26
Story: The Wanderer
'Verse: Lux
Colors: Bone #9. toe tag, Arsenic #18. oleander, Grey #6. grey matter
Supplies and Materials: stain, modeling clay, pastels (my current GRK card O4 "dirty talk"), chalk, novelty beads ("My tolerance for cryptic bullshit has reached an all time low tonight. I want some answers, pronto!"), glitter (understand)
Word Count: 857
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mariko Anders, Simon Gilboa, Larry James
Warnings: Interrogation, amnesia, references to the way Lux injured Mariko
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. This takes place almost immediately after Contact.


Mariko had barely had time to reorient herself from Lux's surprise visit when she was called down by the head of security--an intruder with a communication problem was all he'd said. He didn't say what mode the intruder was using, so she gathered her kits and headed down to the holding room, just off the lobby.

She had not expected the intruder to be human. "...James? Am I missing something?"

"Dr. Anders, good, you're here."

"I'm an expert in Alien languages, not human," she reminded him. Which she shouldn't have to; Red Sky employed a couple of human-language interpreters, too. And this intruder was definitely human. Short--probably not more than five-six, with curly dark hair. Middle Eastern, probably, clean-shaven, wearing a high-necked sweater and a worn jacket.

"Yes, I know, but you also did some work in archaic languages, right?"

...who the hell would be...? "Some," she said, cautiously.

"We found him wandering at the edge of our perimeter, babbling in what Richards thinks is some kind of archaic Greek. That's why I called you."

Greek. Greek she could handle. Her dad's dad had been a historian, he'd taught her archaic English and Greek and a little bit of Latin when she'd started showing interest in languages. She relaxed a little. "All right. I'll see what I can do. Do you know his name?"

"He was carrying an English driver's license. The name listed is Simon Gilboa."

She blinked. "Just a lisence? No passport?"

James shook his head. "No. Nothing."

How did he get off-planet without a passport? "All right."

James led her into the little holding room, held out a chair for her--more archaic, but she didn't mind. After the fire, it hurt to stand too long anyway. She sat down, and smiled faintly at Gilboa, and started in the Classical Greek of her grandfather's favorite plays. "My name is Mariko Anders. I'm going to help you understand my friend's questions, all right?"

Gilboa half-collapsed in unmistakable relief. "You have to help me, please, I-I don't know where I am or what's going on, these men, these men they brought me in here, and I--"

Mariko lost track pretty quickly. Languages this old--three millennia, or thereabouts--were never heard out loud. "Please, Mr. Gilboa, please slow down. I'm not as fluent as you."

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just..." He trailed off.

"What did he say?" James asked her.

Mariko looked up at him. "I think he may be injured. He claims not to know where he is."

"Tell him. And ask him what he's doing here."

She nodded, and turned back to Gilboa. "You're in a holding room at Red Sky Corporation." Or something like that, there wasn't really a Classical Greek term for 'corporation.' "In the Domes, on Mars."

Gilboa stared at her in disbelief. "I...how did I get here?"

"You were found on the edge of the company's property," she explained carefully. "Before that, we don't know."

Gilboa slumped, put his head in his hands. "I don't remember anything before this morning," he mumbled, and Mariko felt James stiffen beside her at the sudden language shift. "Please, you have to help me..."

"You speak English?" she asked. It made sense, his ID--what he had--was British, anyway, but...

He looked up. "I don't know," he said. "All I know is...my name is Simon Gilboa, and I woke up this morning, and tried to find out where I am, and they brought me here."

James touched his ear--he probably had one of the other security people monitoring a video feed and Gilboa's vitals--and nodded briefly. "My colleagues don't think you're lying, Mr. Gilboa."

"Of course I'm not. I...I'm a lot of things, but I'm not..." He frowned, confused. "I don't..."

"Why were you speaking in Greek before?" James asked.

Gilboa shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Please, believe me, I don't know."

"We believe you," Mariko interrupted, trying to soothe him. "James, can I talk to you for a second?"

He nodded, and she pulled herself up and followed him outside. "I think you should take him to Medical, get him checked out. I don't think he's lying, either, and humans have easier tells than most of the beings I work with."

James hesitated a minute, then nodded. "All right. Make any notes you have and email them to me for my report, okay?"

Mariko nodded. "Of course." She hesitated herself. "I would...I would like to be updated, when you know something more. Please?" Something about Gilboa's eyes stayed with her. If nothing else, the mystery surrounding him was a welcome distraction from Lux and Gabriel and...she traced her scars idly, forcing her thoughts back to the here and now.

"Sure," James said. "Just get me your notes as soon as you can."

She nodded, and stopped by the observation room to collect the recording of the interview. With any luck, by the time she was done, Medical would have pinpointed the precise cause of Gilboa's amnesia, and they could figure out who he was and why he was there.