Lankeer 2/5
Dean sat back and frowned. "Okay," he said slowly. "It's never a good sign when your first reaction to something is 'Well, shit'. What's up?"
The pneumatic doors opened behind Dean and Bobby said, "Oh, good, you're all here and I only have to say it once. Hi, Feathers."
"Hey, Bobby." Cas sat down behind Dean. He was dressed now, in jeans and a green flannel shirt, and his hand was carding through still-damp ebony curls, futilely trying to finger-comb them into a semblance of neatness. "Say what once?"
"We've got something intelligent on our hands," Sam filled him in. "And our paths converge on a world. We sent Bobby the co-ordinates to the world and he just cursed about it."
"And then you walked in," Dean finished.
Cas nodded. "Okay, so what's with the colourful language? What is it about that world?"
"You've read the records," Bobby said. "It used to be called Lankeer."
Cas frowned as he thought back. As an angel, he had perfect recall of everything he had ever seen and heard and read. As a human, his memory was still better than either of the human born Winchesters, but it took more work to access. And when he was trying to access his memories was when he looked the most like the "humanoid bird" they'd once called him.
His head tilted and his frown deepened, then his eyes widened and his head raised. "Lankeer was one of the outlying worlds, yeah? Wasn't in the Alliance of Seven?"
Dean leaned over and whispered, "Why do they call it the Alliance of Seven when there's fifty worlds in it?"
Sam grinned back, "Why do they call it the Big Ten when there's sixteen teams?"
"Aah," Dean nodded. "Gotcha."
"Big Ten what?" Cas asked.
Dean opened his mouth to explain, then blinked and shut it. "It...It doesn't matter any more, Cas. Don't worry about it." When Cas opened his mouth, Dean finished, "Tell you what, I'll explain later, okay?"
"Okay." Cas turned back to the screen, waiting for Bobby to answer his question.
Bobby seemed to be pulling something up on his computer. "Yeah, here we are. Lankeer was one of the outlying worlds, you were right. They were going to join the Alliance of the Seven Systems, but then something happened."
"What happened?" Sam and Dean chorused, and Cas couldn't help but smile.
"Now, see, that's the problem," Bobby answered, scratching the back of his neck. "Nobody knows for certain. About three months before they were scheduled to join the Alliance, all communications to and from Lankeer simply -- stopped."
"Stopped?" all three Winchesters gasped, and Sam shook his head. "That can't be right, Bobby -- communications don't just stop. Not without a reason."
"Oh, there's reasons," Bobby nodded. "There's a whole pile of reasons. But nobody knows for certain what's real and what's rumour."
Dean was shaking his head now. "Well, hasn't anyone ever gone to Lankeer to figure it out?"
Bobby fixed him with a steel glare. "The Bermuda Triangle mean anything to you?"
Dean sat back in his chair. "Well, shit."
"Told you."
Sam blew the air out of his cheeks. "So, basically, once we get there we're going to be on our own."
Bobby shrugged. "Probably. Make sure you're well-stocked."
"We loaded up at the last Alliance base," Cas put in. "We're fully stocked."
Bobby nodded, then leaned forward a little. "I don't hear from you boys in a standard week? I'm comin' after you."
"Thanks, Bobby," Dean began, "but--"
"And I'm bringin' Ellen with me."
"We'll find some way to contact you," Sam put in hurriedly. Ellen's wrath when they were out of contact awhile was something they had faced a couple of times and never wanted to face again.
"See that you do. And boys?" Bobby reached for the video feed controls. "Take care of yourselves."
Then the screen went dark.
"So," Sam said in the sudden silence. "Two days till worldfall. Anybody got any ideas?"
Dean swiveled the pilot's chair to face them both. "I say we make certain we're prepared for anything. Get the Impala's armaments and defenses charged and ready."
"And once we get there," Cas put in. "I suggest we do a cloaked sub-orbital fly-by reconnaisance before we roll in on the ground." His eyes quickly cut to Dean. "I'll do the flying, so you don't need to worry."
"Thanks, man," Dean sighed. The fly-bys were necessary evils of their jobs, but they still made him nervous. Not quite as nervous as plane rides used to, because he trusted Cas completely at the MaryJohn's controls. But nervous enough.
Sam turned his attention to Navigation for a moment and made certain they were on-course and would stay on-course this time. "Two days out," he confirmed, turning to the others. "I don't know about you, but I could go for something to eat."
"Sounds good," Dean said, standing up. "Who's in the mood for BLTs and potato chips?"
"I'll make the drinks," Cas said as he stood up.
"Is it real bacon this time?" Sam asked, following them out. "Or the lranya meat?"
"The lranya meat," Dean said. "The last of it until we get back to the Roadhouse."
"Good," Sam nodded. "Tastes about the same and you won't be gas-bombing me and Cas out of the bedroom!"
"HEY!" Dean roared, and their laughter followed his grumbling down the hallway to the mess. "Remind me to remind you that you said that the next time Cas gets hold of some asparagus...."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next 48 hours were a blur of preparation and research. Bobby had sent them an information packet with all the known records of Lankeer, and they had split it up into three parts to digest and discuss.
Lankeer, it seemed, was one of the first worlds colonised by those who had been Removed. In their case, they had been Removed from what appeared to be Egypt around the time of the Pharoahs. "If this architecture and artwork are any indication," Cas finished when he discovered that.
"Egypt, huh?" Sam said, sitting back against the wall and crossing his legs underneath him. Though the MaryJohn had a conference room -- or two -- they preferred to use their bedroom as a planning session room. For Dean and Sam, it was just the way things were done, having grown up in tiny apartments and motel rooms. For Cas, it was a novelty that he still enjoyed.
"That's what it says," Dean nodded. "Why?"
Sam sighed and thudded the back of his head softly against the wall. "Then we might have a problem. A huge problem."
"What kind of problem?" Cas asked.
Sam looked at him steadily. "There's a theory about Lingual Drift, how languages can change over time. But if these people were Removed from Ancient Egypt? There's no way in hell that ancient Egyptian would sound anything like modern English."
"Language barrier," Dean growled. "Shit." Then suddenly, his face lit up. "But wait a second -- the ship has a translation device!"
"And I can speak all human languages, past and present," Cas said with a wave of his hand. "I'll translate."
Sam shook his head. "You could speak all human languages. Now you have a human brain and it can't hold all those languages. I'll lay odds that you've forgotten over half of them."
Cas shook his head and opened his mouth -- and his eyes went huge and his mouth slowly closed. He ran a hand over his nose and mouth and leaned forward a little. "Well, shit," he breathed.
Dean grinned and rubbed a small circle between his shoulderblades, feeling the tiny bumps beside them that indicated that their new brother did, in fact, have actual wings -- even if they were hidden most of the time. "It'll be okay. We don't normally need to know more than one or two at a time."
Sam spread his hands. "Except now we do. We're not going town to town in America anymore -- we're going from world to world. And people who speak English are going to be the minority." Dean looked at him in confusion, and he shook his head. "Simple statistics. English is a relative newcomer on the linguistic scene and--"
Dean shook his head. "Okay, I get the point. Gimme a second to think." He turned the small massage into a light scratch down the first few bones of Cas's spine, and the former angel's shoulders rolled in pleasant relief as a tension knot eased and Dean removed his hand. "So...the MaryJohn's got a translation program."
Sam nodded and opened his mouth to reply, but then he noticed Dean's expression. "Okay, you're plotting something."
With a sly grin, Dean stood up - using Cas's shoulder as a brace and earning himself a quick azure glare. "Maybe," was all he'd admit. "Cas, how long will the reconnaisance flight take?"
"Uhm...." Cas's eyes unfocused as he thought. "Perhaps 36 hours."
"So," Dean nodded. "We've got 48 to get to Lankeer, plus another 36 reconnaisance." At Cas's nod, he said, "That gives me just over 80 hours to do this."
He headed for the door as Sam sat up and called, "To do what, Dean?"
"You'll find out!" Dean called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.
Sam rolled his eyes and blew the air out of his cheeks, leaning back against the wall.
Cas looked over at him. "Does this mean we will have to remind him to eat and sleep and perform his normal bodily functions again?"
"Probably," Sam sighed.
Cas shook his head and yes, that was definitely sarcasm lacing his voice. "Well, doesn't that just make everything fantastic...."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Six hours passed without a peep from Dean. That was a little unusual, so Sam left Cas in charge of making sure the systems were running fine and went to the Mess. Making a sandwich and some fries, he went in search of his silent brother.
He found Dean in the Infirmary, of all places, with a notebook in his lap and a pen tip being nibbled away to nothing while his eyes scrolled screen after screen of information on the computer console. "Hey."
Dean looked up and smiled. "Hey." He sat up. "Oooh, I smell fries."
"Yeah, figured you were getting hungry." As Dean set the notebook and pen aside, Sam burst out laughing as his brother's stomach gave a very loud grumble. "And it seems I figured right."
"Yeah, yeah, gimme." As Dean ate, pausing only to go to the sink in the corner of the Infirmary and pour himself a glass of water, Sam picked up the notebook and frowned at it.
"What's this?"
"Schematics," Dean said around a mouthful of sandwich.
Sam frowned. "What language is this?"
"English."
"Looks like Sanskrit."
Dean shrugged. "There's a little bit of Greek in there -- electronics are usually marked by Greek symbols, so...."
Sam suddenly understood and nodded, putting the notebook aside. Dean was worlds better at electronics than he was. "So whatever you're plotting has something to do with electronics."
"Nope, not something. It's got everything to do with electronics. And it's complicated, but I think I'm just about there with the theory." He looked at his watch. "Gives me about 72 hours to put it all together, give or take a few."
"Can I help?"
"I don't know, Sammy." And it didn't sound like a tease. Sam looked into his eyes and saw he was being serious.
"Why don't you know?"
"Because I don't know yet what I have to do. If I need an extra set of hands, I'll let you know, okay?"
Sam smiled. "In the meanwhile, how about I keep making sure you take care of yourself?"
Dean frowned. "Huh?"
"You get so wrapped up in your projects that you forget to eat and sleep. A couple of times, we even had to remind you to take a bathroom break!"
"Oh, come on! I'm not that bad!" He got a strange look on his face and put the food aside, standing up.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom! That reminded me!" And Dean rolled his eyes as Sam burst out laughing. "Yeah, yeah...."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam was tired. He'd worked on theory while Cas worked on the trajectory and kept the autopilot on course and while his body wasn't physically tired, his mind could sure use a rest.
So, after a side trip to the mess for a turkey sandwich -- Sam loved the tryptophan, put him to sleep faster than warm milk -- Sam yawned his way into the quarters, and froze in the doorway, arrested by the bizarre sight of Cas half-dangling over the bottom bunk. "Cas?"
Cas looked up, his eyes bleary with sleep. "Dean's not here."
"I can see that."
"Dean hasn't been here. His bed's not mussed."
Sam nodded. "He's probably still in the lab."
"If he's still in the lab, he's been in the lab or the infirmary for twenty hours straight."
Sam sighed and walked over. He grabbed the belt of Cas's sleep-pants -- causing an undignified squeak to erupt from the former angel -- and bodily hauled him out of bed, turning him right side up and setting his bare feet on the floor. "You'll give yourself a headache hanging over the side of your bunk like that. Get dressed and let's go haul his ass to bed."
"Again," they sighed in unison, and Cas headed for his dresser. He made a soft noise that might or might not have been a curse and palmed his forehead as he did so.
"Told you," Sam said, rolling his eyes.
"Is this why they call sobering-up headaches hangovers? Because that's what it feels like after you hang over the side of a bed for too long?"
Sam blinked, his eyes going wide for a second before he frowned. "I really don't know, Cas."
"Okay." He headed into the bathroom as Sam sank onto his own bed and looked at the bunk beds, his ever-active mind slotting Cas's theory into place and trying it out for size.
"Huh," he said, shaking his head and looking ruefully at the bed that it seemed he would not be sleeping in for awhile. ".....waste of good tryptophan...."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sure enough, they found Dean in the infirmary, a gone-cold soldering iron held loosely in his right hand and his head pillowed on his left arm. It was plain he'd been working very hard on something very small when he'd just simply conked out.
Cas gently took the tool from his hand and Sam worked the magnifying goggles off of his face. "Wonder what he was working on so hard," Cas asked as he steadied the bench as Sam pulled Dean's chair back.
Dean made a noise and opened his eyes slightly as he felt himself being moved. Sam smiled. He knew that his brother's sleeping mind could sense the part of his own soul housed inside Sam and wasn't afraid or concerned, because he knew who had him. "It's me," he said anyway. "Back to rest, all is well."
Dean's jade eyes closed completely as Sam lifted him into his arms. "Bed for all of us, I think," Sam replied.
Cas nodded. "We've got another 30 hours before we're there and another 30 of reconnaisance flight, so yeah, we could all use some rest." He touched the wall and the lights in the infirmary went off with a thought. "You get him settled and I'll be there once I make certain the autopilot hasn't suddenly developed a mind of its own again."
"That autopilot gives new meaning to the term 'artificial intelligence'," Sam quipped softly, and Cas grinned back at him before jogging toward the bridge. "Okay, you," he said to his sleeping brother. "Time for bed."
Dean made a noise that might or might not have been agreement -- he was too asleep to be articulate -- and Sam got him changed into his pyjamas and tucked into the bottom bunk just as Cas came in and immediately climbed the ladder to the top one.
Sam smiled and changed his own clothes. "The autopilot behaving itself?"
"For now." Cas made a satisfied sigh as he climbed underneath warm blankets. "You able to rest after the jolt I gave you with Dean not being here?"
"Yeah, dude, I'm fine." And he was. He still felt the tryptophan in his system and he knew he was going to sleep very well once he dragged the covers over him and closed his eyes.
Sam turned out the lights with a thought and his dreams took him away seconds later.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Three hours into Cas's reconnaisance flight over Lankeer, Dean walked onto the bridge all smiles. Sam looked up from Navigation and returned the smile. "What's got you looking so smugly self-satisfied?" he asked teasingly.
Dean held up a pair of single-use syringes. "I did it, man." The smile lasted until he happened to glance at the viewscreen and instead of starfield, he saw clouds and flashes of farmland. Dean swallowed hard, feeling his stomach roll.
Sam stood and walked over to Dean, hauling them into the hallway outside the Bridge. When Dean was through swallowing hard and looked like he was regaining some colour, Sam asked, "Before I congratulate you, what did you do?"
Dean laughed softly, feeling worlds better already. "I found the translation program and used the MaryJohn's computers to help me copy it and miniaturise it. These are universal translators -- I just need to inject you and Cas with them and they'll be working in no time."
"Wait -- inject me and Cas?" His eyes scanned Dean's arms, finding the bandaid on his bicep exposed by the t-shirt. "You've already injected yourself."
"And they work fantastic!"
"And who did you talk to to prove this, since the three of us all speak English?"
Dean's grin only grew. "I radioed Bobby."
"Bobby?"
Dean nodded. "Did you know he speaks perfect Japanese?"
"No!" Sam started to grin. "And now, do you?"
In reply, Dean rattled off a sentence in perfect Japanese.
"Guess so. Showoff."
Dean laughed and held up one of the syringes. "Yeah?"
Sam pulled his arm out of his shirt and held it out. "Go for it."
As Dean injected him, Sam winced and said, "Hope it works as well on Egyptian as it does on Japanese."
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Me, too."
Cas's voice suddenly rang through the doors. "Better come in and strap down. We're landing!"
As they walked in, Dean asked, "Already? I thought we'd be going for another day!"
"So did I," Cas said. "But things changed."
On to Part Three