The armored figure loomed above Ben, at least eight feet tall. An alien, it had to be. It had a head, two arms, two legs, but its hips and shoulders were narrower than a human's, giving it a spindly, unbalanced look, and its joints were unnaturally thin.

Ben had a hard time imagining normal limbs passing through its joints inside the armor. Its torso was long in a way that would have been out of proportion on a human, with a faint hairline seam running vertically down the center.

The armor was completely sealed. Where it wasn't gleaming white plates, gaps between them exposed a rubbery blue-black underlayer. The helmet's faceplate was smooth and featureless, but the back of the head had a pair of flat planes growing out to the left and right, like the helmet was the center of a slightly squashed windmill. Ben didn't know whether to think they were sensors, antennas, or just for decoration.

"Human servitors, welcome to the territory of the Apogee Serene Sect. May heaven's light scour you lightly."

Despite everything that'd happened so far that day, Ben felt starstruck. He was actually standing in front of an intelligent alien. Intelligent alien life was real. He didn't feel any of the philosophical implications that he was sure had to exist in that moment, but the question of alien life had gone unanswered for so long in his mind that finding the answer left him having to do some major on-the-spot adjustment.

After almost twenty seconds of silence, during which the others were apparently waiting for him to speak to it, Ben found his voice.

"Hi. Hello. I'm Ben," Ben said, hesitating at first, then finding his rhythm. What did you say to an alien? He gestured at the others. "This is Dawn, Hayden, and Monroe. Uh, one sec, did you say servitors, or survivors?"

The figure was silent for a few seconds before answering. "Please forgive any errors in translation."

The being had a neutral mid-Atlantic accent that wouldn't have been out of place coming from a news anchor. Its tone was genderless and conveyed no more emotion than Ben would expect from a text-to-speech device. It didn't express any body language either — it didn't seem to have any unintentional movement at all.

"I am Hhurim Hhurestechei of the Apogee Serene," it went on. It stopped and held up its hand in a very deliberate belaying expression. "I will not take offense if you cannot pronounce my name. Those Lirral who have a diplomatic role have adopted Human names to ease communication. I am here only as a guard, and to give you your Vital Equipment."

The thing's voice took on a fluting, musical quality as it said its name, completely at odds with its speech so far. The name sounded almost lyrical, like the words were being sung, the timing and tone as important as the sounds themselves.

"Lirral, is that the name of your people?" Ben asked.

Hhurim was quiet for a few seconds. Ben had the mental image of translation software whirring away somewhere, before it answered.

"We are of the Apogee Serene sect, which is of the Lirral nation, which is of the United Unity Alliance."

"United Unity seems kind of redundant," Ben said, before he could stop himself.

He regretted saying it immediately. He didn't want to start being a jerk about an alien's culture a minute after meeting them.

He didn't think the comment really deserved a response, but the alien answered anyway after a brief pause.

"To differentiate it from the Fractured Unity, may their systems fail and realms decay."

Ben considered that for a second before letting his mouth push his luck. "So, was that a single Unity Alliance that split in two? Or is the United Union a follow-up to the Fractured Union?"

"That is unnecessary information for a survivor nation," Hhurimm answered. It was quiet for a few seconds, then continued. "One of my people is better trained to answer your questions. It has taken a human name to ease communication. Ron Canada. It will be giving a seminar for survivor induction two-thousand seconds from now, in the structure behind me."

It gestured unnecessarily at the Bowen's Bridge visitor center.

Monroe barged forward, stepping ahead of Ben and speaking to the alien.

"Hey, Hurim? My name's actually Derek, not Monroe."

The alien's helmet turned to face him.

"In the Lirral language, derreek has an obscene meaning."

Monroe hesitated for a few seconds, nonplussed. "Uh, okay. Sure. I guess I like Monroe. What's the vital equipment you were talking about?"

Hhurim moved its hands and pulled out a case from somewhere – not a pocket. The box was about the length of a hand, made from the same white porcelain as the alien's armor, with a rubberized black button intersecting a visible seam.

It pushed the button, and the lid popped open with a mechanical click. It took out a hand-sized piece of transparent glass, about six inches long and four wide, handing it to Monroe.

"They are information devices," the Lirral said.

Ben reached out and accepted one of his own. It immediately reminded him of a tablet computer, though he couldn't see any ports or components.

"How's it work?" Monroe asked. He turned the device over and slapped it a couple of times on the heel of his hand.

"In its basic mode, it will provide you with broadcast alerts. Ron Canada can tell you more."

Ben held up his screen. Immediately boxes started appearing, stacked horizontally down the glass. The messages were in English, written out in a boxy font.

New intruder class detected:

Eaters of Order (Zero Point)

New intruder class detected:

Deep Sleepers (Septilateral)

New intruder class detected:

Deep Sleepers (Amulucth)

New intruder class detected:

Unregulated Projection (Joyrider)

Monroe had absent-mindedly pushed his tablet into his pocket and was addressing the alien again. "Hey, can I ask, are you a guy or a girl?"

The alien stared back at him for twenty seconds before replying. "That is a parochial question. There are no beings in my nation's spacetime who would find it meaningful."

"Hold up," Ben interjected, looking up from his glass, thoughts reeling. "You're from a different spacetime? Not a different planet — a different universe? You can travel between dimensions?"

The creature held its hand up in the same stiff, one-handed hold-off motion again. "Please save your questions for Ron Canada. He is trained in your regional language and how to interact with humans."

The others in the group collected their tablets, reading down the same list of alerts that had appeared on Ben's.

As they were walking away from Hhurim, a couple of the other tall white-armored aliens gathered around it. Hhurim pointed Monroe out to the others as they walked away, and a second later, they were all pointing at him. It sounded like they were saying something, but the word didn't carry.

"What is an Eater of Order?" Dawn asked, reading her tablet. "What is a Deep Sleeper?"

Ben looked back at the list on his own device. Experimenting, he found he could dismiss the alerts by swiping, like a regular cellphone app. That either had to be a huge coincidence, or whoever had designed the devices had studied human interfaces.

"I think one of them is the starfish," Hayden said. "They had seven legs, and this one is labelled Septilateral. Septilateral symmetry means seven lines of symmetry."

Ben started scratching at his chest before remembering why it was itching and forcing his free hand away.

He experimented further with the tablet, first tapping on it at various spots, though there was nothing on the now-blank device to invite that, then drawing gestures.

When he tried tracing a circle on the screen, a new interface popped up. This was a short list of boxes in the same style as the intrusion alerts, but with slightly more mystifying text.

Order

Restraint

Survival

Nuance

He was tempted to try tapping one of the options, but at the same time afraid to. Whatever he may think it was, this wasn't a human interface. It was a piece of alien technology, ultimately designed by an alien mind. He couldn't count on undo and warning dialogs being present, or even on the capabilities and limitations of the device. For all he knew, the options could be anything between a reference text of handy tips or a click here to die instantly thing.

He found that looking away for a few seconds dismissed the interface, and then spent a minute trying different gestures on the blank screen. Line, square, triangle. Tapping it repeatedly in the same spot made it briefly show what looked like a logo, but nothing triggered any new interfaces.

As they approached the doors to the visitor center, flanked on each side by another Lirral guard, Ben slipped the screen back into his pocket.

He was left feeling a vague sense of regret that he hadn't bared his chest at the bridge and asked for help with his alien attachment. He could only hope there would be some kind of medical help available inside.