Owl and Hoplon

[Thunderer]

"Alright, what do we have here...", one of the workers in a hazard suit casually spoke through his gas mask as he turned on the light. It revealed a large, metallic box. It was no longer looming in the dark -- now it was only one of the objects under the light. The sound of a heavy forklift echoed through the dusty cargo space. The machine slightly struggled to lift the object, but it managed, and then casually took it with itself, aboard Sunderland. The workers followed.


"Two Earl Greys!", Clark ordered the waiter. She was sitting at a table, a most common of tables in the common messroom. However, no one else but the waiter was present and most of it was dark. The lights in the kitchen and the lights above the table were the only ones lit.
"I told you we needed to speak in private. What happened in New London? Tell me." She said that with an almost commanding tone.
"With all due respect, Admiral, haven't you read m-" She interrupted him.
"You said that the cargo somehow materialized in your ship. What really happened?"
"It did truly materialize out of nothing. Or the sensors were dysfunctional. Everything I wrote in the report really happened."
"Objects don't just materialize. I find there is less reason to believe you than suspect you."
"By the arms of Shiva, I swear! I-" The tea had just arrived.
"You will take this one", Clark gave him a cup. He looked at it with hidden suspicion and smelled it. It smelled good and he could not resist taking a sip. "Be sure that our investigation will determine the truth. But let us change the subject to something more pleasant..." She brought her cup to her lips, which grinned. "What's the weather like on New London?"


"Now the last one...", said a worker while putting a screw from the box down onto the floor. It used to hold the lid closed. He grasped the last screw with a wrench and pulled it out.
"Eh up there, Joe!", he shouted in the direction of the forklift. "Our part's done. Gather up the soldiers to get out whatever bleeding hell's inside and let's get ourselves a cold one!"


The lid had been opened. A wall of plasma rifles stood motionless in front of the hole. A nanofibre net covered it. A soldier cautiously approached and lighted a flashlight inside. It seemed empty. Then, suddenly, a black, elongated eye looked back at him. He flinched and the squad aimed, but no one fired. An emaciated arm slowly made its way from the darkness. The muzzles tracked its movement. It had five fingers, but they were unusually long. A relatively small, pale and very thin humanoid creature, with a large head, followed. It wiggled out like a worm, but then it fell into the net and it did not move any more. The soldier approached to check its life signs. It suddenly spoke, with a quiet, deep voice, that sounded as if it came from the hollow core of a large and rotten tree, inconsistent with the creature's size: "I will only converse with the Khatri-named one."

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