Itxaro stumbled from her bunk, bleary-eyed and aching. She wasn't sure if it was the excitement of the previous day, breathing highly oxygenated air, or some combination of the two, but she finally gave up trying to sleep. Looking at the other crewmembers crammed into the bedroom now rising like resurrected corpses for the next shift, she suspected the whole ship was beginning to suffer from some degree of sleep deprivation. 

Itxaro's mind went out, came back, and went out again like a ranging dog. [i]I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day,[/i] she mused weirdly, unsure of the sentence's provenance. Itxaro's first thoughts after waking  were often confusing and disjointed. But the thoughts that came to her in the restless sleep were not.

She had flung herself about the cramped bunk in the darkness, thinking of home. Not particularly missing it; she wouldn't trade meeting aliens for all the comforts on Earth. No, she'd been thinking about what home's response would be to the discovery of a lush planet filled with sentient, magic life. It didn't take long for Itxaro to determine what the capitalist countries and corporations would do. [i]Exploitation at best. Slavery at worst. What else[/i] could[i] they do? That's all they know.[/i] 

Itxaro shuffled from room to room, searching for an open shower. [i]Bathroom for every cabin. Who the hell designed this ship?[/i] She slipped into the rec room, found an unoccupied shower, and hurriedly stripped and jumped in before anyone could steal it from her. 

It was easy for Itxaro to predict what the rest of humanity, in her mind, would do. The real question for the engineer was how her own country would respond, and this question tortured her all night as she ran through the possibilities. Like the island nation it grew from, the USASR was a one-party state, almost a given with any socialist country. However, if that had been intended to create a unified government, it failed miserably. The Politburó was fractured into a dozen or more shifting factions, all vying for power to enact their policies.

Even though she was expecting it, the blast of cold water elicited a sharp yelp from Itxaro. She scrubbed quickly, knowing she only had a limited amount of time before the water shut off, or she was interrupted by another morning riser. 

The Marxist-Leninist-Bazánists, the dominant faction, would advocate for the isolation of Kanth-Aremek
at all costs, even if it meant violence with other humans. Or so Itxaro suspected. This faction had not forgotten the damage done by early colonizers to the Americas, and would seek to spare this new world the same fate. [i]Might be too late for that.[/i] Furthermore, the old-school among them would state that even if they did interact with the aliens, they were far too primitive for a socialist revolution. She recalled that Lenin stated the Russian Empire was not ready for a revolution in 1917, and Itxaro guessed Kanth-Aremek was far from reaching even that level of development.

Only marginally cleaner than she'd been moments before but now wide awake, Itxaro stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel before heading to the laundry room around the corner, metal icy cold against her bare feet. 

The trade unionists would advocate for trade, what else? An exchange between Kanth-Aremek and the USASR, trying to edge out the other human nations with favorable deals. Increase the industrialization of Kanth-Aremek, develop infrastructure and their economic capacity to both decrease their exploitation and accelerate the growth of the proletariat, thus speeding up the socialist revolution that was inevitable in all societies. So they say. Itxaro feared the rapid industrialization of what she assumed was a medieval world would result in an incredibly warped society.

Itxaro quickly changed into the thick, baggy coveralls she'd cleaned the previous night with a concoction of the science team, a boric acid wash meant to make fabric resistant to combustion in Kanth-Aremek's atmosphere. Or at least buy you some time to rip the burning garment off. They felt stiff and heavy, and weren't as strong as the flash suits they had in limited supply, but she supposed it was better than catching on fire.

It was the Neo-Maoists who worried Itxaro the most, though. They were a relatively small faction growing smaller, their beliefs now outdated on an entirely developed Earth, but they led a large alliance within the Politburó, and possessed an ideology that could be dangerously applicable to Kanth-Aremek. The Neo-Maoists believed that industrialization and a proletariat wasn't necessary for a revolution, that Mao himself had toppled the old regime using a vanguard of pre-industrial peasants instead. They would likely deploy agitators to instigate an insurrection against whatever powers controlled Kanth-Aremek, try to topple the local governments, and install those loyal to the glorious people's revolution at the top. Then, they could wage yet another war against the human occupiers, effectively turning the whole planet into a warzone. 

Every scenario Itxaro had thought of last night ended in warfare and bloodshed. She felt deep in her gut that neither the USASR nor Kanth-Aremek could ever come out on top against the forces stacked against them. They'd have better luck trying to stop the tide from coming in.

Itxaro tugged her chunky boots on, shifting uncomfortably in her attire. She hated the drab clothes with a passion, yearning for something vibrant and exciting, but it would have to do. The engineer headed to the shuttle bay, preferring to work through her restlessness rather than toss and turn. [hr]

She was about halfway to her destination when a frazzled crewman came sprinting down the corridor, wild-eyed and out of breath. "Itxaro! Bird! Your name... Gotta find Vigdis... Fucking lizard!" The man dashed off, leaving Itxaro to puzzle together his manic fragments. She started to the shuttle again, double time.

Itxaro peaked over the barricade that spanned the shuttle bay ramp and recognized several familiar aliens through the transparent plastic, along with a new one. [i]Fucking lizard![/i] She fell off the barricade in surprise and landed on the deck painfully, then scrambled back to her feet to vault over the barricade and slide through a flap in the plastic sheeting. She hadn't expected yet another species on the planet, bringing the total up to four. There was also something that looked like Shirik, only it wasn't... Burning. The lizard creature stood closest to her. [i]This must be the one they've been trying to get here.[/i] During their translation session, Shirik had tried to explain in their rudimentary tongue why they needed them, but the meaning eluded Itxaro. S'tor read think, speak, talk. It was difficult to picture the giant dragon before her, S'tor she assumed, as a scholar, but that was all that came to mind from Shirik's explanation; perhaps a linguist of some sort? Surely this planet had more than one language. 

Itxaro greeted each member of the party in the local dialect, before reaching the dragon. "Hello, S'tor," Itxaro finished with a slight bow. The gesture seemed to work with the Glenn, so she stuck with it. "Itxaro," she said, pointing to herself. "Friends, all," she added, opening her arms to them. Itxaro was skeptical how much help a native translator would be. They'd been getting along at a decent pace before, she considered a little egotistically, but the aliens seemed adamant that this towering lizard was necessary. 

[i]Read think, speak, talk. What's that mean? He gonna read my mind?[/i] Itxaro considered with a slight grin. Then she thought back to the Iriad's fire drawings, showing all of the magical abilities they possessed, and more. One depiction in particular stuck out in her memory. [i]Oh fuck, he's gonna read my mind.[/i]

She turned to the barricade and hissed to the crewman on the other side, "Get Mallory! Get Eva too! Now! There's a lizard!" Itxaro turned back to the party and smiled nervously, searching her deep pockets for any more party favors but only finding loose cigarettes and no lighter. Even in her frantic state, Itxaro was pleased to see Kareet using the notebook and pen, and wondered how the studious Tekeri was enjoying [i]The Years of Revolution[/i]. Then she remembered that the paper could spontaneously combust in the atmosphere, destroying all of Kareet's notes and her loaned book. [i]Gonna have to fix that after this clusterfuck.[/i]

Itxaro continued to stall, trying to pump them for information. "S'tor read think..." she struggled to remember the native word. Her tongue felt too heavy and slow for the quick native language. "Head. Question?" Since it was difficult for humans and Kanth-Aremek natives to read eachother's intonations that could suggest a question, Shirik and Itxaro used the word "question" to indicate that something was indeed a query. She pointed to her head for added effect, not knowing if they understood that the brain is the center of cognition. [i]Why am I the only idiot out here?[/i]