‘Denny?’ Cygnus asked as she angled herself in under the ship. ‘How long?’
‘Thirty to forty seconds,’ Denny said into her ear. ‘The vessel’s flight path has become purely ballistic. I believe that any crew are unconscious. Cygnus, the design would appear to suggest the vessel is from the Asharem Congress.’
The name triggered memories. ‘If the crew are asharem… Put a call through to the Union. We’re going to need an environment chamber for any survivors.’
‘Confirmed, Cygnus.’
‘Right.’ Flying in under the nose of the vessel, Cygnus lifted until her back was against it. ‘Let’s see if we can arrange for there to be some survivors.’ She began to lift.
She had configured herself to her heavy-lifting mode, the one that could shift a million tons or so. The ship weighed a lot less, but her estimate suggested that it was travelling around six times the speed of sound and she needed to slow it down very quickly. With the hull of the vessel pressed against her back and shoulders, she applied all the thrust she could manage to push backward. It seemed to be working fairly well until they were down to around fifty feet and she needed to duck out or get crushed. Cygnus shifted to the side above a forested area, which she hoped was unoccupied, and the ship dropped, ploughing into the trees and then the earth beneath with a noise like a bag of hammers dropped into a collection of church bells.
Cygnus shifted to her search and rescue configuration as she flew down to see whether there was anyone alive in the fallen ship. Almost immediately, she could tell that she was going to have trouble with the forward section: it seemed like the vessel had been designed to handle the heat of re-entry by having a heavily reinforced forward section with thinner walls on the midsection and aft. Her search radar was not penetrating the laminate structure, but she could see into the sections further back. The midsection seemed to be almost entirely empty space: cargo and fuel from the substructures. The rear part had a big engine of some sort, a lump of machinery she could not identify, and more fuel tanks. The ships Rho Ashigna and Naryan Tan had used had been equipped with reactionless drives, but this one had some kind of high-tech rocket engine. Which was great, but she was not seeing people.
She could see an airlock, and she was ripping the outer door off when June arrived in her Astraea costume. ‘Survivors?’ June asked.
‘Not yet.’ Walking into the airlock, Cygnus proceeded to smash her way in. ‘It’s highly likely that we’re dealing with asharem.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘For us, no. I wouldn’t say they were entirely peace-loving, but totally pacifist species don’t tend to survive well. The problem is that they come from a planet with two-fifths of our gravity and about sixty percent of our atmosphere. On their home planet they can fly. Here they’re going to have trouble walking. Plus, they could do damage to their lungs from the oxygen concentration.’ The door buckled inward and air rushed past them. Another blow sent the door skittering across the deck. ‘We should work quickly. Take the forward section. I’ll work my way back.’
As Cygnus set off into a corridor which seemed to be heading through the core of the middle section, she could hear June’s commentary over the radio. ‘This place looks like an airliner. Banks of seats. Well, airplanes don’t have a tree trunk rammed through them. Usually. It did a lot of damage, but… No, I can’t see anyone here. I’ll continue forward.’
Cygnus’s radar pierced the walls ahead of her and picked something up with a shape she recognised. Asharem were humanoid. Not especially tall and light for their size, they tended to look skinny. That was definitely one, lying on the floor, inside one of what looked like a set of cabins. It made sense: deep in the core of the ship, away from harmful radiation and possible impacts. The ship had been crashing, so this person had headed for a location where survival was most likely. No other shapes were showing up; Cygnus headed for the cabin door and began to smash it in.
‘I’ve got cabins up here,’ June said.
‘I’ve got an alien. Come to me. I’ll go up and check the front while you see if you can get this guy on his feet.’
‘On my way.’
The ashar was unconscious. From what Cygnus could remember of their physiology, this one was male; the skinsuit he was wearing did little to disguise the fact. Where she could see skin, it was dark blue with brown spots mottling it. His face was laid out in a relatively typical humanoid format, though the nose was flattened and narrow, and the forehead sloped more than a human’s did. He was breathing, rather laboriously, but he was breathing. Alien he might have been, but his right arm was not the right shape: likely broken.
‘You know,’ June said as she appeared in the doorway, ‘most healers can only do their own species.’
‘You’ve been reading up. His arm’s broken. See what you can do. If you can’t… Well, standard medical treatment should work.’
Slipping through and crouching down beside the fallen alien, June reached out to lay her hands on him. ‘Okay. I’ll do my best.’
‘Right. I’ll go check the forward sections and then I’ll get a warp conduit set up from Antarctica.’
‘He does seem to be having some trouble with his breathing.’
‘You would too if you had the equivalent of a teenager sitting on your chest.’
Union of Ultrahumans HQ, Antarctica.
‘You were able to heal him of his injuries?’ Doctor Ultimate asked. He was standing outside one of the Union’s medical rooms which were set up to provide various environmental conditions. The air pressure in the room where the alien was lying had been reduced. Unfortunately, they could not do much about the gravity.
‘Yes,’ June replied. ‘I just did what I normally do.’
‘Interesting. That may be another talent we could make use of here. Our patient is waking up. Would you care to try talking to him, Cygnus?’
Cygnus nodded and started for the airlock. The lowered air pressure would not bother her. Not by the time she was inside anyway. She was walking up to the bed when the ashar noticed her, his eyes widening. He spoke, but whatever the language was, Cygnus did not know it. She tried the language she had learned from Denny, or perhaps she had remembered it when Denny had exposed her to it. Whatever, it was supposed to be a common trade language. ‘You’re safe. We got you out of your ship after it crashed, but we healed your injuries and you’re safe.’
His eyes narrowed, more in something like a frown than in suspicion. ‘You Guardian?’
‘Yes. I’m a Guardian, but–’
‘Stories true.’
It was Cygnus’s turn to frown. It seemed that he did not speak that language well, but he had a basic grasp. ‘What stories?’ she asked.
‘Stories of… Stories tell of distant Guardian not…’ He shook his head sharply. ‘Not speak Palnesh good.’
‘Right.’ Cygnus pushed an intercom button beside the bed and switched to English. ‘Hugh, we are going to need Polyglot. His Palnesh isn’t good enough to handle more than a few reassurances.’
‘I’ll request that she comes over immediately,’ Doctor Ultimate responded.
‘We are getting a translator,’ Cygnus said to the alien. She was rather pleased to find out what the name of the language she was speaking was; for some reason, that memory had escaped her. ‘Someone who speaks your language.’
His eyes widened. ‘How?’
Cygnus smiled. ‘Oh, Polyglot can speak any language she needs to.’
~~~
Polyglot was almost stereotypically French. She had tanned skin, dark flowing hair, and brown eyes. Her features were sharp and Latin, and she was a fit, attractive woman who dressed in smart skirt suits and low heels. She had loved languages even as a child and could speak seven different ones even without her Ultrahuman talent. That talent was the ability to communicate with anyone she came into contact with, picking their language out of their own heads as soon as she heard them or saw their writing.
Wearing a face mask to cope with t
he lowered air pressure, she had walked into the room and begun talking. She had been talking for over an hour before she re-emerged from the room, pulling her mask off and reaching for the mug of coffee June was handing her with a look of appreciation. ‘Thank you, Astraea. It is not easy working in these conditions.’ She had a rich voice with a reasonably strong French accent, not that you could tell when she spoke most languages. She sipped her coffee and sighed. ‘His name is Quillant Vedro. He is a refugee.’
‘The Guardians invaded his home?’ Cygnus asked.
‘Yes. He managed to flee on that ship and has been running since. Recently, he heard rumours that there was a world with a Guardian who still followed what he describes as “the old ways” and who had vanquished the Guardian forces sent to capture her. You, obviously, but the stories were clear on the subject of gender, less clear on the subject of where you could be found. It was luck that he came across Earth when he did. His ship had no fuel and had been damaged in a battle with pirates. Or he described them in a manner which suggests pirates. Perhaps brigands.’
‘There are rumours out there about me? I mean, how did anyone find out about me?’
‘That he does not know. Only that there are stories, some of them exaggerated from what I can tell, circulating out there. He is requesting asylum.’
Everyone looked at Doctor Ultimate. He sighed. ‘Alison will be annoyed. This is going to take all sorts of messy diplomacy and a huge amount of paperwork.’
‘This is not going to go down so well back home either,’ Cygnus said.
June smirked. ‘Yeah, probably, but you’re missing the important point.’
‘I am?’
‘Yeah. This means you’re famous on an interstellar level. How awesome is that?’
New Millennium City, MD, 12th August.
‘Senator Roger Kilmer, Republican candidate for president, has raised concerns over the recent crash-landing of an alien vessel in Maryland.’
‘I know he did,’ Penny grumbled. ‘Watching the evening news has become a really masochistic experience lately.’
‘Speaking in Tucson,’ the presenter went on, ‘the senator asked how Cygnus was able to get to the crash site so quickly, why UID agents were initially kept from the site, and why Cygnus evacuated the single survivor of the crash to the Union of Ultrahumans HQ in Antarctica before officials could talk to him.’
‘He’s pushing all the paranoia buttons,’ June said with a sigh.
‘ACPN has been able to confirm that neither the UID nor Captain Freedom, who also attended the site, had arrived before Cygnus and New Millennium City Ultra Astraea removed the injured pilot to Antarctica. At no time were officials denied access to the crashed spaceship. The reason for the hurried evacuation was revealed by Doctor Ultimate in an interview filmed this afternoon at the Union’s headquarters.’
The image shifted to show the medical facility where Quillant Vedro was being treated, though initially it was Doctor Ultimate and Brightstar on the screen. ‘Our guest belongs to a species called the asharem,’ Ultimate said. ‘Their home environment has less than half our gravity and a little more than half our atmospheric pressure. The results of exposure to Earth-normal conditions are potentially very hazardous. High partial pressures of oxygen can result in damage to the lungs, but frequently result in coughing. The comparatively high gravity results in further difficulty in breathing. Cygnus and Astraea acted swiftly to bring Mister Vedro here where we can, at least, provide him with atmospheric conditions more to his liking. Unfortunately, we do not have the technology to provide him with lower gravity, so we are keeping him here to allow his body to begin adapting while we monitor his condition.’
‘Mister Vedro does not speak any Earth language,’ Brightstar said, picking up the story. The camera panned as she walked toward the observation window of Vedro’s room. ‘Luckily, Union member Polyglot is able to speak any language she has a need to.’ Polyglot could be seen inside the room, wearing a mask and sitting beside Vedro’s bed. ‘She has been interviewing him concerning his home and why he has come to Earth. He is a refugee seeking asylum and we have been discussing his case with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.’
Vedro, seemingly at Polyglot’s suggestion, climbed out of the bed and walked slowly over to the window. He moved with hunched shoulders, taking his time. He was now dressed in a white T-shirt and some grey sweatpants, and he looked slim, small, and more than a little vulnerable.
‘As you can see,’ Brightstar went on, ‘Mister Vedro is not a threat. On his home planet, he is able to fly, but our gravity makes that impossible. He has no more offensive abilities than a typical human. His muscles are adapted to low gravity, so he is no stronger than a human child. We are a far greater threat to him than he is to us. He needs our compassion, our humanity, not our suspicion and intolerance.’
‘Mute that please, Denny,’ Penny said as the picture cut back to the studio. ‘That was a nice speech. Hope it works.’
‘I suspect that depends on who’s listening,’ June replied. ‘That poor man is never going to be able to function properly on Earth, is he? He’s picked entirely the wrong planet to seek refuge on.’
‘Hugh said his heart and lungs will adapt to the gravity, given time. He’ll probably put on some muscle mass too. His lungs can’t adapt to the air pressure, but Hugh can build him a suit to let him cope with the air and the gravity. But… He’s always going to need some sort of special environment, a little like Jacob. Except that Jacob might be able to learn to control his abilities better and Vedro can’t just learn to breathe again.’
‘Poor man.’
‘Yeah. Let’s hope more people than you can see it that way.’
13th August.
When the reports of Senator Kilmer’s latest tirade had appeared on the morning news, it had appeared that showing the world their latest alien visitor had not been a good idea. Kilmer had rounded on the Union, describing them as ‘alien loving’ and then bringing up their support for the Amazon Queen and their sanctions against America when Cygnus and Twilight were suspended. Penny had been grumpy all day. The evening news had something of a surprise for her.
‘Senator Roger Kilmer’s campaign took a two-point dip in the polls today following his remarks about the Union of Ultrahumans last night.’
June grinned. ‘My faith in Americans has gone from none to “a little bit.”’
The presenter was not finished. ‘Further polls suggest that the senator from South Carolina’s personal appeal has also dropped. Confidence in Senator Kilmer fell to just forty-eight percent, down eight points from mid-week polls. Voters indicated his willingness to antagonise an organisation which has done a lot to help the country was a strong factor in their opinion. Senator Kilmer’s extremely negative position on Amazonia and his strong backing of the currently unpopular UID were additional factors.’
‘It’s an improvement,’ Penny said, ‘but they’ll have forgotten about this by November and Kilmer’s still ahead.’
‘Sourpuss,’ June replied. ‘It’s your birthday on Thursday. Cheer up, you’re getting older.’
‘Oh thanks! Pile existential anxiety on top of political pressure, why don’t you.’
Gānnán, China, 24th August.
‘Another place we’re too slow getting to,’ Jacob commented as they flew back toward the centre of Gānnán.
‘We’re closer this time,’ Cygnus replied. ‘She was here fifteen days ago.’
‘Yeah… How are you suddenly able to speak Chinese?’
‘Oh, I learned it from Marie, uh, Polyglot. She basically borrows languages from those around her. I watched her with the ashar we pulled out of that crashed ship and figured out how to do it.’
‘Is there anything you can’t do? Could you mimic my powers?’
‘I could copy yours, sure. I’m not sure about something like Twilight’s powers though. I mean, I could probably do stuff like what she does, but it wouldn’t be the same. Basically, I co
uld mimic magical abilities, but I can’t duplicate them. Or I don’t think I can.’ Cygnus paused. ‘This army the locals are worried about seems interesting.’
‘General Xue’s people? I had a thought that Andrea might be following them for some reason, but Mrs Pan said she was following that monster.’
‘Yes, but one of the people here said Xue had a monster with him.’
‘Great, so now she’s tracking a monster aligned with some sort of mad Ultrahuman warlord who has an army of trained soldiers.’
‘You have to admit, it sounds like just the kind of thing Twilight would do.’
‘No, that’s the kind of thing you would do.’
Cygnus considered that for a second. ‘You may have a point.’
New Millennium City, MD, 26th August.
Penny scooted down an aisle in her local supermarket, dropping products into her cart with a deftness the old Penny would never have managed. She had to admit that she had taken a few liberties with her Penny shape when she had gained the ability to pick the features. There were the really special additions which were there just to make sure she was safe like a force field and something which suppressed her cosmic energy signature and, after meeting the Amazon Queen, she had added the ability to fade out of people’s perceptions, effectively becoming invisible if she wished. There were also the convenience additions: added lifting capacity and oxygen uptake. She had also eliminated her lousy coordination, turning herself from a klutz into someone with slightly above-average dexterity. That was especially useful when gliding down a supermarket aisle on a shopping cart and plucking boxes from shelves.
She had, in fact, made another improvement: her hair had gone from a nondescript brown to a vibrant chestnut. June had pursed her lips on seeing the change but had come to the conclusion that hair dye could achieve the same effect. No one would really have noticed if the generally unnoticeable Penny had gained a couple of inches, developed a real waist and hips, and become a bit more attractive overall, except for June. Despite everything, Penny still could not really fathom why June liked the way Penny looked, but she did, so Penny stayed the same basic shape.
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