"Hmm. Perhaps," replied Yuri, her face expressionless. "Just be careful when we get there. Inspecting old starships can be sometimes... hazardous..."
Motoyama sat two seats away from Ryoko. He remained silent.
The air inside the limousine was actually quite cool. The driver had set the air conditioner to maximum power, hoping to make his passengers comfortable.
Outside the car windows, the scenery slowed changed from that of a tranquil countryside to that of a bustling town...
Meanwhile, at Heroes' Grove:
Henry and Mina were walking around a hill, at about 100 yards away from the airfield, followed by their guards and curious onlookers. The day was hot. Henry was visibly sweating, and occasionally wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
Suddenly, a large grove of trees appeared behind the hill. Henry soon found himself standing under their shade. The air was cool and calm. The ground was covered with green grass.
"This... this is a cemetery," said Henry, looking at the ring of headstones in the middle of the shaded grove.
Mina nodded. "Here lies the crew of the Unicorn. This is sacred ground to my people, Admiral Chen. But please, have a seat anywhere you want. I do believe that I owe you a story." And with those words, Mina stepped inside the ring of headstones, and sat upon the ground in the center of the ring.
Henry followed, gesturing at Shina and Meemeel to stay close. The three trolls remained standing outside of the ring of headstones.
Mina's guards were walking about, making sure that no one got too close to the Star Army personnel. They didn't have much trouble. While the onlookers who followed them quickly scrambled inside the shade, none of them seemed too eager to get close to the menacing trolls.
Tike and Han, the representatives of the two major powers, decided to remain outside the ring of headstones, along with the rest of the Phodian onlookers. Their bodyguards did their best to shield them from the curious gaze of those near them.
When Henry, Shina, and Meemeel had sat down on the soft grass, one of Mina's attendants walked up, and handed each of them, as well as Mina, something wrapped in leaves.
Mina took the small package and partially unwrapped it, revealing a red frozen block of... food? In any case, Mina took a bite out of it and smiled. "It's a popsicle. Quite edible for humans, I assure you."
~Shina?~ A nervous thought was whispered from Henry's brain.
~Mina speaks the truth, sir.~ Replied Shina telepathically, while discreetly thumbing at the scanner in one of her pockets. ~We are each holding a popsicle made from an unknown fruit. The main ingredients are water, carbohydrates, and a variant of fructose. The leaf that it was wrapped in has been sterilized.~
Henry reluctantly followed Mina's example, partially unwrapping the popsicle that he was handed and taking a small bite. The frozen treat felt cold and sweet against his tongue. Henry could see that Mina's guards were also handing the leaf-wrapped popsicles to the trolls and the Phodian onlookers. It appeared that beating the heat was a constant struggle on this planet.
Letting the frozen treat melt inside his mouth, Henry scanned the headstones. Nepleslian names were inscribed on them all.
"Now, where was I?" asked Mina, mostly to herself. "Ah, yes, the story. About 150 years ago, on a day very much like today, a starship fell out of the sky and crashed on this island."
"The Unicorn," said Henry. Things were beginning to make sense.
Mina nodded. "A few of the crew were killed during impact, but most survived. The relationship between the alien survivors and the natives was understandably strained at first, seeing as the language barrier prevented any meaningful communication. But the natives were too awed by the few displays of human technology that they've seen to consider attacking the aliens. And the survivors knew that there were too many natives to deal with should hostilities break out. So, instead of taking the easy way out and killing each other, we took the effort, and learned enough of each other's language to eventually communicate... By the way, we were those natives, Admiral Chen. Or should I say, my ancestors were."
"I gathered that," replied Henry, smiling.
Mina continued. "The relationship proved to be very agreeable to both sides. The natives were taught the secrets to many wonderful human technologies, like vaccination, pasteurization, metallurgy, refrigeration, solar power, and electric motors, to name a few, as well as the sciences upon which they were based. Phodian scholars and scribes quickly spread the knowledge to the mainland. The survivors found themselves respected and revered as heroes."
Henry nodded. Around him lied the remains of the saviors of Ohara.
Mina smiled. One could tell that this was a story she enjoyed telling. "Many of the feudal lords of the mainland invited, nay, begged the Unicorn's surviving crew to go to the mainland. The lords attempted to lure them with promises of wealth, fame, status, and power. But the humans were wise. They were not interested in joining sides in the petty squabbles and skirmishes that occasionally broke out on the mainland during the Feudal Age. Besides, they already had wealth, fame, status, and power. Us Phods treated them as gods, and in many ways, they were. They had no reason to leave paradise... And here, they lived out their days."
"How long has it been since they died?" asked Henry.
"Oh, a very long time," replied Mina. "It has been 76 human-years since the last human, Dr. Andrew LeBow, passed away. He was 105, I believe. You mortal kin of Freya are famed for your longevity. Most Phods don't live past 20."
Sympathy was evident in Henry's one organic eye. But he still needed answers. "Why do you call humans the mortal kin of Freya?"
Meanwhile, in the City of Everspring...
"We're here!" cheerfully announced the driver of the limousine as it pulled up to a large, ornate building situated on one side of a large town square. The jeep slowly came to a stop behind the limo.
Just outside the limo, and up a short flight of marble stairs, was the entrance, where a very nervous Goz Jelvu, head curator of the Museum, stood. He was visibly nervous and sweating, and was fanning his face with his right wing.