Galactic Search and Rescue: A Scifi Space Opera with Adventure, Romance, and Pets: A Central Galactic Concordance Novella

by Carol Van Natta

  “Go on, Shen,” Taz said quietly, pointing toward the door. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  It was probably just coincidence that Shen barked as if in response, then took off to catch up with Rylando.

  As Taz knelt, the woman caught her eye. “Sorry I’m such a stinking mess.”

  Someone had put a sweater under the woman’s head for a pillow. The source of the smell stained the front of her cloud-patterned blue tunic.

  “You’re fine. A little vomit isn’t too bad. The capsule will neutralize the smell.” Taz smiled gently as she picked up the scanner that Rylando had left out by the medical pack. “I’m Subcaptain Correa, by the way. You’re Instructor Nadryer?”

  “Yes.” Tears fell from the woman’s eyes. “I’m a terrible example for my students.”

  “I’m pretty sure they’ll understand.” She checked the scanner’s readings on her patient’s injuries. “I can’t lift you without causing you pain. I’d like to give you a quick-acting pain patch first.”

  Nadryer shook her head. “No, no, they don’t work on me. My talent...” More tears fell. “I should never have tried to slow that block. Exhausted myself and tripped in the hole. No energy left to heal with, and now I’m blowback sick. I just wanted to save our really expensive floor. Stupid.”

  If the woman had been using her talents, Taz might have realized sooner that she must be a multi-talent minder. “You don’t have to answer, but are you a sifter? I can use a neural pain block instead. Invasive because of the microneedles and takes a little longer, but no brain chems involved. You’ll lose sensation below the waist.”

  “Yes, do it.” replied Nadryer. “Is it against GSAR rules to use your sifter talent on me? I feel like I’m on a neuro thrill ride. It’s making my pain worse, too.”

  Taz blinked at the woman’s matter-of-fact request. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “Fucking CPS.” Nadryer gave a watery sigh. “Why even hire minders if they won’t let them work?”

  Taz slipped her hand under Nadryer’s back to center the neuro block over her cervical spine. Maybe because of the skin-to-skin contact, she thought she could sense the imbalanced neurotransmitters and the flailing receptors. Sort of like a subtle version of the haze of impending violence, but chaotic, like misfiring electrical nodes in a tech circuit.

  On impulse, Taz leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I can’t help because I don’t know how. Besides, I’m low-level at best.”

  Nadryer’s eyes widened for a moment. “Whoever told you that was full of shit.” Her expression softened as she studied Taz’s face. “Want a quick lesson? We advertise meditation classes, but what we really do is train minders. The CPS’s methods don’t work for everyone.”

  Taz had no idea there was such a thing as private minder tutoring. “Thank you, but not right now. You need all your energy for yourself.”

  A weak smile played on Nadryer’s face. “I wouldn’t be spending the energy, you would. Healers can sometimes work on themselves, but sifters can’t. Like trying to tickle yourself.” A moment later, she sighed again. More tears flowed. “Ah, that’s better.”

  The relief on Nadryer’s face told Taz the neuro block finally kicked in. She grounded and opened the capsule right next to Nadryer so it wouldn’t skitter away like a cat that wanted to be admired but not touched.

  Nadryer’s forehead wrinkled. “Wonder what happened to my boots?”

  “Instructor Vangelio has them.” Taz slid a fat safety strap from the capsule under the woman’s waist and hooked it around her. “I’m going to lift and slide you into the capsule, rather than roll you in. It’ll help if you cross your arms tight and keep your back strong instead of saggy.”

  A corner of Nadryer’s mouth lifted in amusement. “Saggy?”

  “Technical term. Used by rescuers everywhere.” Taz took a centering breath, then used her telekinetic talent to ease the woman into the capsule. It took concentration to keep her floppy legs in line with the rest of her body.

  Nadryer lifted her hand to touch the top of the capsule.

  Taz nudged the woman’s hips in to center them. “Being in a capsule is like being in an autodoc that flies. I’ll tell it about the neuro block and that you’re, er, allergic to receptor-type painkillers. When I seal the door, it’ll insert a billion microneedles, scan your injuries, and take you to the nearest accepting medic center. Any questions?”

  “No.” Unexpectedly, the woman grabbed Taz’s hand. “Thank you. Get training for your sifter talent. It’s at least as strong as your teke talent.”

  “I will,” Taz agreed reflexively, then remembered the woman was another sifter who could detect half-truths. “I’ll consider it.” But not while she was still in the CPS, where a telepath could interrogate her anytime they wanted if they thought she was hiding something like that. As it was, she was alarmed the woman had sensed her unactivated sifter talent without even trying.

  Taz extracted her hand, entered data into the capsule’s controller, then sealed it up. Nadryer’s face, visible through the viewport, relaxed to unconsciousness after a few seconds.

  Just as she was guiding the capsule out the storeroom door and into the main area, the lights flickered again. Nearly ten seconds this time. Not a good sign.

  Rylando crossed to her. “New lifesign near the lifts.” His finger brushed his nose and chin, meaning the lifesign came via one of his animals, not tech. He started to speak, then appeared to think better of it. “Let’s get this group safe, then check out the lifts.”

  “Apologies for interrupting, sirs,” said Instructor Vangelio, “but we know the way out, and you said it’s clear. Your skills are needed that way.” She pointed in the direction of the lifts. “Someone is growing very fearful.”

  Rylando’s gaze drifted and lost focus for a long moment. He turned toward the group with sudden energy. “We accept your offer. Watch the glass in the front foyer. Your flitters, if that’s how you got here, are inaccessible right now. Head for the park about a kilometer east. Emergency Response Command will get you sorted.” He squeezed past Taz to enter the storeroom.

  As Vangelio herded her students out just as effectively as Shen would have, Rylando came back with the medical pack slung over his shoulder.

  “Orders?” she asked.

  “Suit up and follow me. A young human female is dangling from something thin at the bottom of an open lift shaft.”

  4

  Salamaray Citizen Activity Center, Perlarossa • GDAT 3242.334

  From hard-won experience, Rylando knew not to trust the airsled’s self-navigation capability in an unknown structure. Taz and Hatya said the much-patched AI needed total reconstruction from its neural net on up. Considering GSAR’s budget woes, there was a less than zero chance of that.

  Unfortunately, it meant he couldn’t both operate the airsled and keep in mental contact with his animal team. He trusted them not to create havoc, but sometimes they let their mission get in the way of their good sense.

  He wasn’t much better. Though she hid it well, he knew Taz disliked being underground. He’d instinctively wanted to save her from having to descend into a deep shaft by sending her with the group they’d freed. Not only was it against the regs—and common sense—to operate solo, but she’d have been deeply insulted. And rightly so.

  It came down to trusting her to tell him if she couldn’t handle something. And hoping she trusted him enough to admit it. The trouble was, considering how diligently he’d kept her at a distance, first out of wariness, then while fighting his fascination, he wasn’t sure he’d earned that trust.

  The wide hallway opened into a wider area that served as the lift lobby. At least the building plans proved accurate about the location of the lift shaft, but neglected to note the fact that it was at least three times larger than usual.

  He slowed the airsled to a hover and triggered its scanners.

  The lift’s sliding doors should have been closed, not gaping open to expose the sh
aft below. To the left sat Shen and Moyo, both watching him and Taz for orders. A quick check with his talent told him the cats were around the corner in the far hallway, investigating an interesting smell.

  On the walls, static directional displays showed maps and listed occupants in that section of the L-shaped building. A separate display advertised the storage business in the basement, listing the features and prices for their units and reminded existing customers to use their access token to operate the lift. Too bad the building AI wasn’t speaking to Taz, or they could have queried it about the number of token uses that morning.

  Pieces of the patterned ceiling littered the floor, especially near the dimly lit shaft.

  Taz’s tone sounded in his earwire. “My scans say the decorative ceiling layer isn’t stable, but it’s thin. The denscrete above it is solid. I might be getting more lifesigns below ground to the west, but it could be echoes. The lift shaft is lined with more incalloy.”

  The airsled’s results came back a moment later. “My scans confirm.” He was more inclined to agree with Taz’s theory about the settlement company running up the planet’s debt. It would have been cheaper to line the shaft with rainbow corundum crystals set in hand-wrought filigree.

  He eased the airsled forward and grounded it. At his request, Moyo and Shen trotted over and jumped in the open side door. The two cats agreed to think about it.

  Taz crossed straight to the shaft opening, crouched, and extended her shoulder camera array and floodlight pointed down. “Hello! Subcaptains Correa and Delroinn from Galactic Search and Rescue. Do you need assistance?” Her suit-amplified words echoed on the hard walls.

  “Yes! I’m stuck down here. You must help my father, too!” The faint German-accented voice sounded like it might come from the teenage girl he’d seen in Moyo’s memory. He increased the sound detection on his console.

  “Is your father with you?” asked Taz.

  “No, he’s in the storage section. I hope. When the earthquake hit, the frelling lift took me all the way below the basement and wouldn’t move. When the wallcomp wouldn’t wake up and I couldn’t get comms on my percomp, I climbed to the top of the car and opened the service access. But I’m too short to reach the service ladder.”

  Taz’s words echoed again. “Is anyone else with you? Are you hurt?”

  Rylando brought up the holo image and readouts from Taz’s cameras. No wonder the girl’s voice had sounded faint. The shaft bottom, which should have only been five or six meters, was almost twenty meters deep.

  A girl with intricately braided but dusty hair and light brown skin looked up. Her long-sleeved coat puffed out on all sides. He’d have thought it was too hot to wear for summer, but fashionable civilian clothing baffled him. In GSAR, he had a choice of formal military dress greys, rescuer yellow and red, or sleep pants. He wasn’t ever off-duty long enough to make it worth owning anything else.

  “Not really. I fell on my butt when my belt broke.” She pointed to the bottom rung of the service ladder, well above her head, where a short length of strap still dangled. He gave her points for trying.

  “Okay,” replied Taz. “Let’s get you free first. Then we’ll go for your parent. What’s your name?”

  “Jhidelle Barallone. My father is Xolor Stramlo.”

  Taz’s voice came through his earwire. “The sled will fit in the shaft with plenty of room to spare. You could fly her up while I climb down a few meters to see if I can get better readings on the lifesigns.”

  “Do it.”

  The lights flickered several times, then steadied. He couldn’t tell if it affected what should have been always-on emergency lights in the lift shaft. Current construction codes required bright lights with independent thousand-year power sources. No telling what a flagrantly corner-cutting settlement company had used a century ago.

  Hatya’s tone pinged. “Silver Team status check. I’m a glorified autocab. Just dropped off medics and supplies at the ERC.”

  As usual, thirty minutes went by fast in rescue situations. His percomp would have reminded him if Hatya hadn’t initiated the check-in first. He touched his earwire. “We’re good so far. Cleared our initial target. Six and a half lifesigns headed for the ERC and one evac capsule headed for the medics. No recoveries needed.”

  “That’s good,” replied Hatya. “I hate cremation duty.”

  “Sync that.” Rylando hated attending memorial services for the dead, too. They made him feel guilty for not having saved them. “We have detailed building scans to share with the ERC, too. Should help them with repairs.”

  “Speaking of scans,” said Taz, “are you near enough to deep-scan from the shuttle? We think we might have multiple lifesigns in the basement, but it’s denscrete and heavy metal construction. We’re at the lift lobby now.”

  “I’m already in the air. Be there in two,” replied. Hatya. “Meanwhile, I sent you as-built records and occupants for the building. No one can explain the power glitches.”

  Rylando confirmed the new data and pinged acknowledgement as he watched Phobos and Deimos stroll across the lobby and jump into the airsled.

  “Baskets,” he told his team, and reinforced it with the hand sign. They jumped into their respective crates without a fuss, though Phobos chose to stay with Deimos instead of going to his own. Rylando sent them all the mental equivalent of a quick pat of praise.

  All the animals suddenly stood up. Phobos meowed and Lerox gave a low warning grunt. Mariposa, the little owl, woke and rocked side to side on her perch. Moments later, a low vibration rumbled beneath him. He leaned out the airsled’s open door and shouted, “Aftershock!” then closed it.

  Taz scuttled back from the shaft opening and maintained her crouch. The walls swayed. More pieces from the ceiling dropped onto the airsled’s roof and the floor.

  Six seconds later, the vibration and swaying faded to nothing.

  Rylando sent reassuring thoughts to the rest of the team as he threaded his way past the equipment to the back. He opened Otak’s crate and gently slid the tense rat into the low chest sling he wore under the harness. The other animals would be all right in a few minutes, but Otak needed warm physical contact to climb out of his spiral of panic.

  Outside, he heard Taz’s amplified voice. “Jhidelle, are you okay down there?” On the console’s display, holographic Taz rose to her feet and stepped toward the shaft, though not as close as she’d been before.

  The airsled’s console amplified the reply. “Ja, ja, I’m fine. Just more dust.”

  Hatya pinged again. “Confirming your lifesign readings. Three clustered about seventy-five meters west of the airsled. Never seen a whole community building of incalloy. What did the builders do, salvage a crash-landed interstellar freighter for construction materials?”

  Taz described their plan of action to the girl while Rylando lifted the airsled to glide slowly to the opening.

  “You go first.” She pointed to the shaft. “Don’t scrape me off the service ladder on your way back up.”

  “I won’t.”

  Carefully easing into the shaft, he let the airsled sink slowly. He kept his scans running realtime in case the metal walls hid unexpected damage.

  The shaft could have fit two more big sleds like his. Maybe the architect planned the lift to hold a hundred people at a time, to fulfill the CAC’s alternate purpose as the town’s emergency shelter.

  He keyed the airsled’s amplifier. “Jhidelle, I’ll land at the far side. Please stay where you are near the ladder until I open the side door for you.”

  Keeping a steady pace, he glanced at his cameras to see Taz in her suit climbing down. She made it look so easy to adapt her human motive agility to the tech. The only time he’d tried on a mech suit, he’d tripped over his own two feet and done serious damage to the commander’s favorite shuttle.

  Landing on the roof of the lift car proved impossible. What he’d taken for a dusty solid surface was actually a warp mesh that couldn’t handle the weight of th
e airsled and would snare the runners. He set the sled to a stable hover and opened the side door. Holding onto the sidebar with one hand, he leaned out and beckoned Jhidelle. “Come on.” If the third power coil wasn’t so bad, he wouldn’t have had to yell so loud to be heard over their vibration.

  She clutched her coat lapels with one hand and walked quickly toward the airsled. He gave her a hand up and pointed her toward the jump seat. “Pull that down and web in.”

  Moyo stood in her crate, tail wagging, making a soft snuffling noise. Jhidelle’s head snapped to the back. Her eyes widened as they darted to each crate.

  “They’re our trained rescue team,” he told her and pointed to each. “Moyo, Shen, Phobos, Deimos, Mariposa, and Lerox.”

  The animals were clearly as fascinated by her as she was them.

  Taz’s tone sounded in his earwire. “I’m halfway down. I think this shaft is twisted five or six degrees, which is probably why the lift grounded itself. Some of the service ladder rungs have popped their anchors. My scans agree with Hatya’s on where the lifesigns are. The basement hallway seems clear, and it’s big. Maybe the lifesigns are stuck in one of the storage units? Hatya’s updated records say each unit has its own life-support system, but they depend on the building’s independent power.”

  “Which is glitching,” he subvocalized.

  Waving to get Jhidelle’s attention, he pointed to the side of the jump seat. “Web in. Safety rules. Sit sideways so there’s room for your feet.”

  “I recommend we get the others now,” said Taz, “rather than making a second trip.”

  After making sure Jhidelle hooked the web all the way, he squeezed by the tall equipment cases to stand at the front controls. “With only two good coils instead of three, we might have to make a second trip anyway, if the lifesigns are heavy. As it is, we’ll have to re-stack the crates, or hook one to the roof.” The airsled’s scans agreed with Taz’s and Hatya’s. “Let’s try it.”

  “Copy that. Meet you in the hallway.”