“Not too long. Forty-five minutes.”
“Forty-five minutes!” She put her hands in the dirt to shove herself upright, stopping in confusion when they sank into soft material. A bed? No, it was some sort of cot, set in a flattened part of the field. She’d been moved to the port side of the ship and there were two large shuttles parked nearby, their external lights illuminating a beehive of activity. There were Alseans everywhere, carrying boxes, poles, packs, and straps, and trampling even more of the grain. The farmer who owned this field was not going to recover much of the crop.
“One thing I’ll say for these Alseans, their doctors are efficient,” Baldassar said. “They got here five minutes ago, but look at that.” He nodded toward the ladder, and she looked over to see ten bodies swarming up the rungs, all laden with gear.
“They’ve been here five minutes, yet they already managed to treat me and get halfway up the skirt?”
“Oh, they didn’t treat you. That one did.” He pointed discreetly to the side, where she saw a man in dark civilian clothing speaking to the one Alsean she could recognize. As if aware of her gaze, they turned their heads simultaneously and met her eyes. After a pause, the doctor said something else while Lancer Tal nodded.
“Lancer Tal and some of her staff got you onto that cot after they brought their shuttle around,” Baldassar continued. “They wanted to carry you inside, but I made them understand that you’d rather stay here where you could see.”
“Thank you. That couldn’t have been easy.”
“Actually, it was. They seem to just…know, somehow.”
“Any word from Lieutenant Candini? Is she able to communicate through their radio system?” The failure of their communications grid had been one of the worst aspects of the crash. She knew nothing of her crew’s fate, but the ship’s computer had reported severe structural damage in every area where her remaining crew had been.
“Yes, one of their military people was here just before the doctors arrived and let me use his wrist radio. They’ve gotten into engineering. Commander Kameha and Trooper Xi need treatment but will be fine. Lieutenant Hmongyon is in serious condition, and they’re still looking for Troopers Shelley, Cuthbroad, and Mauji Mauji.”
“And Ensign O’Sullivan?”
“I’m sorry, Captain. He didn’t make it.”
She nodded tightly. “If that’s our only fatality, we’ll have beaten all the odds.”
“We already beat the odds just landing her mostly intact,” he said. “Thank the Seeders for Lieutenant Candini.”
Seeders my ass, she thought. If we have to thank the Seeders for our pilot’s skill, shouldn’t we be cursing them for cutting short a promising young life? O’Sullivan deserved so much more.
She wouldn’t let herself think about the others. Not the four-person weapons team that had saved this planet from a holocaust, and certainly not the one person who should not have been on her ship, who was deep in the habitat ring and would probably be the last person found. No, she would not think about it.
A nearby movement startled her, and she hoped her little jump hadn’t been visible when Lancer Tal crouched down beside her. The Alsean said something, but it was her expression that drew Ekatya in. Whatever differences they might have in language and culture, this was a leader who understood how she felt. There was sympathy in her eyes as she spoke again and slowly held out a hand. Ekatya hesitated, then reached out. The moment their hands touched she felt calmer, more hopeful. Perhaps she’d just needed to know that she wasn’t alone in this. O’Sullivan was dead, and others might be, but Lancer Tal knew what it meant to lose people in her command.
I am responsible for a ship, she thought. This woman is responsible for an entire world. She’s just found out that aliens exist, and she’s taking the time to hold my hand so I don’t crack up and completely lose it here in the middle of a damned field, in front of my executive officer.
How did you know? she wanted to ask, but Lieutenant Candini had their only translator and she had never felt so powerless.
Lancer Tal smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and let go. When she rose and walked toward another group of waiting Alseans, Ekatya let herself relax onto the pillow, feeling sleepy again.
“What was that all about?” Baldassar asked.
“I have no idea,” Ekatya said, closing her eyes.
Chapter 8
Search and rescue
“How is she?” Micah asked.
Tal squinted into the lights of the medical transport, watching as another treatment bed was brought out. “Let’s just say the leg is the least of her concerns.”
“Her commander told her about the fatality, then.”
“Yes. I’m not sure if I should block their emotions or not. It feels as if I’m invading their privacy.”
Leave it to Tal to worry about questions of ethics when aliens had dropped out of their skies, Micah thought. Usually he saw her father in her, but sometimes her mother’s heart shone through.
“Tal, they just crashed a giant ship into a producer’s field. They don’t have any privacy.”
She met his eyes. “And that’s just the first of the legal issues we’re going to run into, isn’t it?”
“You mean besides deciding who has jurisdiction over this ship and the technology inside it? You know the Council is going to argue itself into a blue cloud over that one.”
“It can try,” she said. “But I’ve been giving that some thought, and it seems to me that existing Alsean law might actually cover this.”
“Then you’re ahead of me, because I’d say this fits the legal definition of unprecedented.”
“Not if you consider it under marine salvage law. The captain of that ship is right over there. We can’t just take it away from her.”
“Doesn’t that depend on whether or not we recognize the government she represents?”
“We’re not pirates!”
“I agree. But I’ll bet you a moon’s salary that not everyone in the Council will.” In truth, he’d be surprised if some of the councillors didn’t leave skid marks on the chamber floor in their efforts to be the first to profit from the situation. The only question was whether the warriors, the scholars, the merchants, or the builders would be first out the door. The only castes who wouldn’t join the stampede would be the producers and crafters.
“What a headache,” she said. “It might have been better if this had been an invasion. Then I could focus on a nice, uncomplicated battle rather than the biggest snarl of competing interests the Council has seen in…ever.”
He looked back at the massive ship. “Speak for yourself. I’m happy not to be fighting that.”
“That’s because you don’t have to fight the Council.”
“And I’m happy about that, too.” He chuckled at her expression.
“You’re always a ray of light in my life.” She sighed. “We need the legal scholars on this before the posturing starts, which means I have to call Aldirk again. I’m telling him it’s your fault.”
Both of their wristcoms vibrated even as she was reaching for her earcuff.
“Aldirk?” he guessed before looking.
“No, the Mariners. They’re five ticks out.”
“You bother Aldirk. I’ll go meet the Mariners. Unless you want to trade?” He maintained an innocent look in the face of her glare.
“Be careful, Micah. One of these days I’m going to say yes, and then you really will be stuck.”
The Mariners had brought two rescue transports, which looked tiny in comparison to the medical transport. Micah clasped forearms with the pilots and updated their teams on the situation, while all eight of them stared at the alien ship.
“Not a problem,” one of the pilots said. “This will actually be an easy extraction. The ship’s not moving on a rough sea, there’s no storm trying to blow us out of the sky, and we’re not trying to pull unconscious dead weights out of the water.”
The other pilot nodded. “Agreed. But dam
n, I’d like a look inside that thing.”
“You and me both,” Micah said. “And probably everyone here, including the Lancer.”
At the mention of her title the Mariners began peering around, trying to look as if they weren’t looking. Micah thought that he shouldn’t be adding one more task to her already towering pile. But hadn’t she often told him that a leader was responsible to the people beneath her, and not the other way around?
Excusing himself for a moment, he called her and found her grateful for the interruption. Two ticks later, as he discussed rescue techniques with the pilots, he knew by the looks on their faces that Tal was walking up behind him. All eight Mariners drew themselves up into full parade pose, smacking both fists to their chests with a perfectly synchronized thump.
“Settle,” she said. They relaxed, and she offered her forearm to the first pilot. “Well met. I’m glad to see you here this morning. We have great need of your specialized skills.”
“Thank you, Lancer.” The pilot swelled to a point where Micah was afraid she might pop a button. “We’re proud to serve.”
Tal worked her way through the group, and by the time she’d clasped forearms with the second winch operator, the call they’d been waiting for came in on the open radio channel. One of the rescue teams was approaching the nearest exit hatch with two of the most critical cases.
As the Mariners raced back to their transports, Tal asked the team if the aliens would need immediate airlift to Blacksun or if the medical transport should wait for additional cases.
“Immediate airlift,” said one of the healers. “They need surgery, and our healers will need time to determine what will and won’t be effective with their physiology.”
“Understood. Best guess, Healer: will they survive?”
“I really don’t like to guess. But if they’re as much like us as we’ve been told, their injuries are not beyond our capacity.”
“Good. How far behind is the next team?”
“Right behind us, but they have two stable cases and the fatality, all of which can wait. We’re still looking for two more aliens in the engineering sections, and the third team is only now reaching the weapons rooms.”
While Tal signed off, Micah scanned the ship, waiting for a hatch to pop open somewhere. When it finally did, it was several decks below and to the east of the first one. He stared in surprise as a ladder rippled into existence where none had been before, reaching from the hatch to the flat part of the ship.
“Where did that come from?” Tal asked.
“I don’t know, but I’d certainly like to.” He could think of ten applications for such technology without even trying.
“And the ladder went down,” she said. “How does it know which direction is down? There is no down in space.”
“Add that to your list of questions to ask the captain,” he suggested as they watched the first of the rescue transports lift off.
“It’s getting longer by the tick,” she agreed. “But not being able to understand a word she says certainly puts a wet branch on the fire.”
“Are you going to send her out with the critical cases?”
“That’s the first question I’ll ask her. Want to bet she says no?”
“No bet. She’s a warrior with injured troops. She’s not going anywhere.”
“Someday you’re going to take one of my bets,” Tal grumbled as she walked away.
Chapter 9
The last one
“Lancer Tal!” a voice called. Tal turned to find one of the assistant healers bustling up, a water flask in one hand and two more in the other. “How long has it been since you had something to drink?”
“Too long. Thank you.” She took the offered flask and drained it. Pushing the cap closed, she asked, “Are those for the captain and commander?”
“Yes, I was just on my way over.”
“So was I. I’ll take them.”
Trading her empty flask for the two full ones, she resumed her trek across the field and called Dewar for an update on their search so far. The alien pilot had directed a team as close as she could get them to the occupied weapons room, where a thermal scanner showed four aliens still alive, status unknown. Gehrain had stayed behind to assist the rescue team in breaking through the debris that blocked access. Now the pilot was leading Dewar, Corlander, and another healer deep into the ship, toward the one remaining possible survivor.
“This ship is incredible, Lancer Tal. Beyond anything I’ve ever seen in an entertainment vid, that’s certain.” Dewar sounded out of breath, as if she were climbing. “But it’s not in the best of shape.”
“I’m not surprised. Are you safe?”
“I don’t know, and neither does Lieutenant Candini. I’m not sure it matters.”
“Guard Dewar, there might be one more survivor. There are certainly four of you. It matters. If things start falling around your head, you will retreat. That’s an order.”
After a pause, Dewar came back on. “Lieutenant Candini says that we can retreat, but she won’t.”
How charming, a suicidally brave alien. Well, this at least was not her problem.
She arrived at Captain Serrado’s bedside and gratefully sat in one of the field chairs that someone had set up next to it. The alien commander occupied the other, his gaze intent on the rescue transport now hovering above the newly opened hatch.
Captain Serrado had been watching as well, but as Tal’s shadow fell over her, she turned her head. Tal held out the flasks and pantomimed drinking, relieved when the captain immediately took a flask for herself and handed the other to her commander, with what sounded like an order to drink it.
It was uncanny how easy these aliens were to understand. They appeared to have a military hierarchical structure similar to the warrior caste, with the captain exercising total authority, but also taking ultimate responsibility for everyone serving her. Just as clearly, the two subordinate aliens Tal had met so far were bound in service to the captain, and their emotions indicated that their service was willing. In the case of the pilot, more than willing: Lieutenant Candini seemed to feel a family bond with her captain, and that too was something Tal found familiar.
In fact, the only real differences she’d seen so far were their incomprehensible language, their inability to front, and their extraordinarily smooth faces. The lack of forehead and cheekbone ridges made them look a bit embryonic, and Tal had to consciously keep herself from staring. Other than that, they appeared normal. Even their hair fell into a normal range of color tones, though the pilot’s shade of red would be considered unusual. The captain’s black hair and dark blue eyes would have made her attractive if not for the missing ridges, and the dark skin, hair, and eyes of her commander would not look out of place in northern Argolis.
While the captain finished her water, Tal called Dewar again and asked if she could use the translator device. In the pause that followed, the commander said something and Captain Serrado pushed herself into a sitting position, staring upward. Tal followed her gaze to where two Mariners were riding a rescue cage down from their hovering transport.
“Yes, I have it now,” Dewar said.
“Good.” Tal switched the com’s sound function from her earcuff to her wristcom and touched the captain’s shoulder. “Captain Serrado, there are two critical cases coming out right now. We will airlift them directly to our nearest healing center.” She waited while the distinctive voice of the translator sounded from her wristcom. The captain spoke one short word.
“Who?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know their names. But my healers tell me that so long as there are no physiological surprises, we can heal them.”
“Thank you.” The words didn’t begin to convey her gratitude.
“You’re welcome. But Captain, this day’s work has just begun. I would like you to go with the transport, where our healing staff can make you more comfortable.” She paused, waiting for the translation to stop, then spoke over the captain
’s response. “I promise you that we will do the best we can for your remaining crew members.”
“I’m not leaving,” Serrado said. “And if you were in my position, I don’t believe you would either.”
If only Micah had taken her bet. “You’re right, I would not. But I did have to ask.”
“I appreciate it. If I might make a request?” At Tal’s nod, the captain said, “This is Commander Amis Baldassar. I’d like him to accompany the first transport.”
So that was his name. They hadn’t had time for all of the introductions before the captain had handed off her translator.
“Captain,” the commander began, but Serrado cut him off.
“One of us needs to be there, Commander. And I need to be here.”
He acceded, and Tal called over the nearest Guard. “Parksor, this is Commander Baldassar. He’ll be accompanying the two critical cases to Blacksun. Please escort him to the medical transport and make sure the staff there understand his role.”
“Yes, Lancer.” Parksor waited politely while the commander rose. As the two walked away, Tal felt a waft of combined relief and guilt from Captain Serrado. Odd. Did she want to get rid of him?
The Mariners had reached the level of the exit hatch now, and with nothing else pressing at the moment, Tal stayed to watch. Captain Serrado didn’t seem to mind, making her relief at the commander’s departure even more puzzling.
One Mariner threw a cable toward the hatch, where it was caught by a member of the rescue team and hooked onto a ladder rung. A second tossed cable was used to draw the cage in, and when it was close enough, the Mariner jumped into the hatch and made the cage fast to the ladder. With the transport now tethered, the pilot’s skill level became even more critical. So far as Tal could see, she kept a perfect amount of slack in the cable, preventing any sudden movements of the cage.
The second Mariner was now off as well, and together they lifted an alien into the cage, securing their patient with several straps. One climbed back on while the other unfastened the main mooring, then jumped onto the cage’s opposite end. The nearest rescue team member unhooked the final tether and held firm while the pilot slowly took up the slack. When the transport cable reached full tension, the Mariners signaled their anchor, who let the tether fall.
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