by J. N. Chaney
Then the green face split into the brightest, broadest grin Thorn could imagine, revealing teeth that were—
Thorn blinked. He’d expected some shade of green, but what he got was gleaming white.
“My friends,” the big green man said, flashing that flawless grin. “I am Bertilak, and I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Every word the man uttered was laden with enthusiasm that fell just short of shouting.
Tanner offered a smile. “And I am Captain Tanner, of the Allied Stars Orbital Navy. Welcome aboard the Hecate.”
The man stuck out a big green hand in what was obviously an invitation to shake it, which Tanner did. Their size difference made the effect disconcertingly like a child solemnly shaking the hand of an adult.
“I am so pleased to meet you,” Bertilak said. “I have heard of your people—hoomans, correct?”
“Humans, yes,” Tanner said. “And you are?”
“I already told you. Bertilak.”
“Right. I was hoping you would tell us the name of your people.”
“Bertilak.”
Tanner glanced at Thorn. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m confused. Is Bertilak your name, or the name of your people?”
“I am Bertilak. I am, in fact, my people.”
“I see.” Tanner nodded. “Well, welcome aboard my ship. I’m afraid that, as a warship, we’re not really configured for a lot of diplomatic niceties.”
“Ah, what niceties matter among the civilized peoples, captain? If we have air, and water, and food, we are in an enviable position. This is the opinion of Bertilak.”
Thorn watched Bertilak as he spoke. Every movement, every gesture, every word and tone was just a little exaggerated. A touch theatrical, a smidgen over the top. It was like watching an enthusiastic amateur playing his first speaking role just a little too hard.
Thorn didn’t trust him—not one bit.
“Well, Bertilak, this is Lieutenant Thorn Stellers,” Tanner said. “He’s one of my officers, and he will act as your liaison and guide while you’re aboard the Hecate.”
Thorn started to shoot a glance at Tanner but cut it off as his hand vanished into Bertilak’s massive green fist. He waited for bone-crushing power, but for all of his obvious size, power, and enthusiasm, the alien’s handshake was surprisingly restrained, almost gentle?
“I am pleased to meet you.” Bertilak’s smile faltered. “Lieutenant? Thorn? Stellers? Which should I call you?”
“Thorn is fine.”
The smile flared back to full power. “Thorn it is, then. I approve of your economical speech.”
“Lieutenant Stellers will escort you to the mess—a word that describes much of my ship right now, unfortunately.” Tanner’s diplomatic smile returned. “And it’s back to dealing with that mess I have to go. Before I do, though, allow me to once again thank you for your assistance. The crew and I are deeply grateful.”
Bertilak shook his head. “Bah! Thanks are unnecessary. I merely came to the aid of a ship in distress, the same way I’m sure you would have if I’d been the one in need.” Bertilak’s grin turned sly. “Besides, I owed those water breathers an ass-kicking. The last time I tried to deal with them, they took my cargo, then withheld payment on some stupid technicality or other. And I couldn’t do much about it, because they vanished back into hiding beneath the ice. Bertilak can tolerate many things, as the universe is filled with endless new experiences—but cowardice is to be avoided. Or punished, if Bertilak is given the chance to do so.”
Something struck Thorn as Bertilak spoke. Their comms weren’t doing any translating. The big, green man was speaking as fluently as any human.
“You’re a trader,” Thorn said, “so I gather you must do a lot of business with humans. Because you speak our language so well.” He gave an appreciative smile that he hoped came across as sincere.
It apparently did. “I do, and kind thanks. I much prefer to speak a language than rely on translators. The lack of nuance is . . . simple. And as a trader, nuance is among the tools I need to succeed.”
Tanner’s personal comm chimed. He glanced at it, then looked back at Bertilak.
“There are some things I need to attend to, I’m afraid. Thorn will take care of you. Incidentally, how large is your crew? I don’t know if we can accommodate more than—”
“Crew?”
“Yes. The crew of your ship.”
“You’re looking at it, friends. I am Bertilak, and I am the crew.”
Thorn tried to keep his bland smile from collapsing into a frown completely. “You’re alone?”
“Well, not right now, if we chose to be pedantic. As of now, I am with friends, and thus, hardly alone,” Bertilak stated, as if this was obvious.
Tanner exchanged a glance of entreaty with Thorn. “Lieutenant Stellers will have you well in-hand, I’m sure,” the Captain said, his comm chiming again. “Right now, though, I really have to get back to—”
“Your ship, yes. They are mistresses, these ships, that constantly demand our attention, eh?” The big man offered Tanner a sly grin and an exaggerated wink. “Even when we would rather be engaged in more interesting things. But taking care of the things that care for us is a necessity. I understand your need to be elsewhere, Captain, and thank you for the courtesy of explaining your tasks.”
Tanner smiled and nodded. “Yes. Mistresses. Well, this one does demand my attention. I’ll speak to you shortly. Until then, Lieutenant Stellers can provide you with our hospitality and thanks.” The Captain took Thorn’s salute, then strode away.
“Now, then, Thorn Stellers, where shall we go? What shall we do?”
“We will go to the mess. I’ll give you a tour of the ship along the way.”
“Except for the secret parts, of course. This is, after all, a warship.”
“Secret parts?” Thorn asked blandly.
“Every ship has secrets,” Bertilak said, the sly look returning. “Everyone has secrets.”
Thorn struggled to keep his expression flat. Despite the good humor bubbling in his voice, Bertilak’s words somehow put him on edge. It reminded him of how, at one particular power setting, the Hecate’s Alcubierre drive hummed with a harmonic that made Thorn’s teeth vibrate. Bertilak was that harmonic embodied, albeit infused with hearty cheer.
He gestured for Bertilak to walk with him. “Except for the secret parts, yes.”
Bertilak strode along the Hecate’s corridors with a surprisingly light step for such a big man, and an infectious grin that none of the crew could seem to resist. They all grinned back, despite the desperate race to get the ship functional enough to get underway again. Many offered their thanks.
Bertilak took it all with good humor, an effusive grin, and much laughter. Thorn felt more than a little obscured by the big alien’s sheer force of personality. Even the Honor Guard had taken to offering frequent smiles and chuckles at Bertilak’s robust antics.
The big alien finally stopped at a corridor junction just short of the mess and turned to Thorn, gesturing at their Honor Guard. “Thorn, my friend, you do not need these people here to watch over me. I am no threat whatsoever, as I would like to think I’ve demonstrated by now. That is a precedent, as you might say, and my behavior shall not change.”
“That sounds like exactly the sort of thing someone who was a threat might say,” Thorn replied, smiling.
Bertilak laughed loud enough to make the conduits ring. “Well played, sir. I am glad Captain Tanner made you my overseer. I find a lack of humor to be tedious beyond belief.”
Thorn glanced at the two Ratings, who simply stood nearby, waiting. “You two can go and help out with the ship. I’ll take care of Bertilak—my good friend, here.”
The senior Rating saluted, and the two walked away. Thorn led Bertilak to the mess.
It was one of the few places in the Hecate that wasn’t currently a bustle of activity. The ship had suffered surprisingly few casualties for the pummeling she’d taken—about two-dozen crew wer
e injured, but no one had been killed. None of the casualty treatment had spilled over from the infirmary, leaving the mess ready for use as a makeshift medical facility, but not currently needed as one.
Thorn gestured for Bertilak to sit at one of the tables. He did, somewhat awkwardly levering himself into a seat meant for a much smaller bulk than his.
“I would happily offer you some refreshment,” Thorn said, “but I don’t know your dietary requirements. Also, most of the food services systems are offline right now.”
“That’s fine,” Bertilak said, raising a huge, green hand. “I am quite happy to simply sit and get acquainted with my new friends.”
Thorn sat across the table. “I thought you said you had dealt frequently with humans before.”
“Ah, but not your sort of humans—the military sort. I’ve dealt with many traders, as soldiers can be less likely to engage with a simple trader. Like me.”
Thorn nodded. While he wasn’t aware of many human traders operating outside of space patrolled by the ON, it could certainly be possible. He decided to leave it for now.
“‘Bertilak is an interesting name,” he said. “Is it old Earth French?
“It might be. I don’t really know.”
Thorn nodded but found Bertilak’s casual acceptance of the possibility yet another bit of oddness. He knew about old Earth languages? “I suppose it probably wouldn’t be,” Thorn said. “You don’t look Terran, after all.”
“Because I’m green?”
“That’s one reason, yes.”
“There are others?”
Thorn smiled and shook his head. “No, not really. You actually look Terran in pretty much every way except for being green. And big.”
“Well, Bertilak’s not the name my parents gave me. That was something you wouldn’t be able to pronounce, and for our purposes, Bertilak will do nicely.”
Thorn smiled again. “That’s fine.” He glanced around the mess, his gaze landing on the coffee dispenser. “Have you ever had coffee?”
“Have I? I most certainly have. Caffeine is among the wonders of our galaxy. And others, I suspect.”
Thorn nodded and turned to the dispenser. As he did, he summoned a glimmer of magic and let his awareness drift away—not far, of course, only so that it encompassed Bertilak.
Nothing. From a ’casting perspective, the colorful—both figuratively and literally—alien might not as well even exist.
Thorn wasn’t sure what to make of that. The idea of a race of aliens essentially transparent to magic had a slew of implications. It could be a threat, or beneficial, depending on how they might align themselves. He’d have to suggest to Tanner that they get to friendly space as soon as possible, ideally with Bertilak in company.
“This seems to be a fine ship, with a fine crew,” Bertilak said, looking around.
Thorn turned, a cup of coffee in each hand, and went back to the table. “It is. Personally, I think it’s the best in the Orbital Navy.”
Bertilak’s grin remained in place. “I suspect every crew believes that about themselves and their ship. Pride can be an issue, but not when the pride is used as a tool to augment naval capability. Or morale.”
Thorn nodded and sipped coffee. It struck him that the coffee he created to replace tea was better by a longshot. Of course, that was coffee as he envisioned it, so it would be, wouldn’t it?
“Are you far from your, ah, home space?” Thorn asked.
“I have no home space,” the alien replied. “Or, rather, maybe I do. It’s wherever I happen to be, so my location is my home.”
“I see. Okay, what I mean is, the space from which you originated. Where you were—” He was going to say born, but wasn’t sure if that would even apply. “Where you first came into existence. Where you’re from.”
Bertilak gave a genuine frown. “I’m not sure. I’ve always been where I am, or at least, that’s all I can remember. I admit this seems a bit opaque, but my memory only extends so far, and I have no burning need to seek further answers.”
“Ah.” Thorn sipped coffee. Was Bertilak being truthful, and he didn’t know, or was he being deliberately evasive? Without being able to Join, Thorn had no way of knowing, aside from the usual telltales of honesty. But those were human qualities, which might not apply to the alien. Either way, it would be tough to tease out of his almost constantly bubbly, effusive manner.
He decided to try a different approach. “Bertilak, where did you—”
A soft chime sounded. Bertilak glanced down at one of the gadgets hanging from his waist. “A message from my ship,” he said. “My apologies, but may I have a moment to deal with this?”
Thorn cocked his head, suddenly suspicious. “I thought you were alone on your ship.”
“I am. This is from my synthetic.”
“Synthetic?”
“Yes. I suppose you would call it an artificial intelligence.”
“Ah, okay. What’s its name?”
Bertilak looked confused. “Name?”
“Your AI. We have an advanced one aboard the Gyrfalcon, the smaller fighter we carry about the Hecate. She’s named Trixie.”
“I’m sorry, Thorn, but she? She has a name? Why?”
“Because she’s basically almost sentient.”
“My synthetic is a machine, nothing more,” Bertilak said. “In any case, if I may have a moment.”
Thorn nodded, drained his coffee, and stood. “Once you’re done, or if you need me in the meantime, I’ll wait outside for you.”
The grin flashed back to full power. “I thank you.”
Thorn turned as the door to the mess slid closed behind him, and stared at it.
He was still convinced that something was off, and in a way that was outside even his unusual set of life experiences. Moreover, his concerns would have trouble finding traction with Tanner or the crew based solely on a vague unease. Bertilak had saved all of their lives, then proven to be a strange, but decidedly charismatic figure of ebullient good humor.
And that just made Thorn all the more suspicious.
I’m a cynic. But in the end, cynics are always right, Thorn mused.
Tanner looked around his briefing room, going from face to face.
“Thoughts about our new friend?”
“Seems harmless enough,” Raynaud, the XO, said. Her voice was more taut than usual. Somehow, during the battle, she’d taken a blow to the head and now had a bandage wrapped around it. She’d eschewed any sort of painkillers, though, declaring she needed to keep her wits about her until the Hecate was back in friendly space.
“You wouldn’t think that if you were the Nyctus, ma’am,” Osborne, the Tac O, said. “We’ve reviewed the logs from the battle, especially focusing on Bertilak’s shots at the squid ships. We have got no idea what sort of weapon he was using—only that it seemed to be a direct energy system of crazy power output.”
“I saw. Two shots, two dead squid corvettes,” the XO put in. “Love to get me some of that kinda firepower.”
Tanner nodded. “Agreed. That’s something we can nudge our way toward, though. Frankly, Bertilak owes us nothing. It’s very much the other way around, in fact. So we’re not in a position to start prying much—yet, anyway.” He turned to Thorn. “Stellers, what about you? You spent the most time with him.”
“Aye, sir, I did. And . . . I don’t know. He doesn’t react with magic, and I find that deeply unsettling. Even a rock has some degree of interaction with the energy of magic—more if it’s got interesting elements inside, but to be a black hole where magic fails to report back? Troubling,” Thorn said with a shake of his head.
“None? To clarify, not a glimmer when you apply your skills to his ship?” Tanner asked, incredulous.
“No, sir. None. Just like his ship, Bertilak effectively doesn’t exist, as far as magic’s concerned.”
“Something else it would be nice to dig into,” the XO said. “Having magic-immune allies against the squids would be huge. It might
even turn the war.”
Thorn crossed his arms. “Maybe. The trouble is, we don’t know anything about him or his people—and that’s if his people even exist. He claims he’s the only one of his kind he knows, and his speech patterns indicate gaps in his own self-awareness.”
“He had to come from somewhere,” the Tac O said. “There must be a race of big, green, anti-magical aliens out there, maybe even further beyond Nyctus space than the—er, what’s that race called? The one we’re talking with right now?”
“The Danzur,” Thorn replied, which immediately made him think of Kira. What insight would she have about Bertilak? Could she know something, maybe picked something up from the Danzur about his race?”
“All of this is what-if’s and conjecture,” Tanner replied. “Stellers, why don’t you just ask him and leave the oblique tactics to the spooks?”
“I’ve tried, sir. Three times, I tried to engage him in conversation about his past, his people, his origins, his ship—and every time, something seems to pull him away.”
Tanner leaned back in his seat. “What sort of somethings?”
“Twice, it was the AI—what he calls a synthetic—aboard his ship. The third time, it was the Tac O here.”
Osborne scratched an ear. “Hey, I saw him ahead of me in the corridor and wanted to personally thank him for pulling our ass out of the fire.”
“I don’t think that counts as a mysterious interruption,” Tanner said. “Unless, Stellers, you’re telling me there’s more going on here than we realize. For instance, are you suggesting that he somehow influenced Lieutenant Osborne to interrupt you?”
Thorn sighed. “No, sir. Or, if he did, it wasn’t in any way I could see or sense.”
“So we’re back to you and your feelings again.” Tanner patted the air, allowing a small smile. “Not that they aren’t valid.”
“Sorry, sir. I wish I had something more concrete, but all I’ve got is a healthy dose of my own, deeply ingrained suspicions.”
“You’re the only one, then,” the XO said. “He seems to have charmed most of the crew. I’ve seen him walking through the ship, talking and laughing as though he’s been aboard for weeks, not just a few hours.”