by J. S. Fields
The Ardulan woman shifted, the sound breaking Neek away from her quiet declaration. She turned to see the woman staring at her, the same unreadable expression on her face. Neek stood abruptly, embarrassed, and motioned to the woman, her earlier unease threatening to again bubble to the surface.
“Stay with her. I’m going back to the cockpit. If—if she needs anything, come find me.” Neek didn’t wait for a response before turning sharply on her heel and walking briskly out of the cargo hold.
* * *
“You’re back early,” Yorden commented. His voice filtered up through a grated vent near Neek’s head as she strode through the hallway. She glanced down just in time to avoid tripping over two large, hairy feet sticking out of an access panel.
“Computer up yet?” she asked, leaning in and aiming her voice at the vent.
“Nope. Last shot fried the entire system. We’ll have to get a replacement.”
Neek let out a loud puff of air. “Great. Flying blind. It’ll add more color to our eulogies.”
A loud clang came from the access panel, followed by a curse. “Damn upgrades!” Yorden yelled. “Fucking cellulose everywhere. Can’t get inside anything anymore.” There was a rustling sound, and then Yorden’s torso and head slithered out from the opening at the bottom portion of the wall. “One of our engines is down, too. We’re dead in space once we exit the wormhole. Again.” He raised an eyebrow at Neek. “Why are you in such a festive mood?”
Neek’s reply was cut off when Nicholas rounded the corner, covered head to toe in what appeared to be engine grease. The ship’s lighting glinted off the lubricant, giving Nicholas a goopy glow.
“Something funny?” Nicholas asked sourly.
“Something up?” Neek asked, keeping her voice neutral.
Nicholas leaned a shoulder against the wall, exhaustion evident in his posture. Neek thought she saw a rust-colored stain on the youth’s shirt and wondered if his knife wound had reopened.
“Yeah. I just took a look out the viewscreen. Looks like a few other ships joined us in the wormhole. I saw the tips of at least two. Couldn’t tell what species they belonged to though.”
Neek moved over to Nicholas and wrapped an arm around the youth’s waist, letting him lean on her. “Come on, Nicholas,” she said. “Let’s go take a look.”
The three walked to the cockpit in silence. Nicholas slumped heavily against her, and she could feel that he was breathing hard. “Worn out?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he responded. “And my ribs hurt.”
Neek kicked a few of the fallen tablets from the corner of the cockpit, eased Nicholas to a sitting position, and gently prodded the wound. Nicholas grunted but didn’t scream, although the way his eyes clenched shut told her a great deal. “Just sit here for a bit. Catch your breath. I don’t think there’s much any of us can do right now anyway.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Yorden muttered when he caught sight of the extra ships. “I’ve only ever seen that type of ship architecture once before. We’re being flanked by Nugels.”
“Is that good or bad?” Nicholas asked.
Squinting, Neek made a full visual sweep of the screen. “Maybe three pods? Four? It’s hard to tell since we’re only able to look forward.”
Yorden sat down heavily in his chair and gestured for Neek to do the same. “I don’t know, Nicholas. I wasn’t thrilled the last time we ended up in the middle of a Risalian-Nugel conflict, and the Pledge certainly isn’t in better shape than she was back then.”
“Yeah, you and I weren’t nursing stab wounds, and Neek was still alive the first time,” Nicholas added darkly.
Yorden smiled sympathetically. “We’ve got no computer and a shot engine. Realistically, we have no weapons and shielding that will last another four or five blasts at best. Our best course of action will have to be to exit the wormhole and hope the Risalians and Nugels are too busy killing each other to notice us drifting away.”
Nicholas coughed and clutched his wound. “The Nugels probably won’t fire on us, right? I mean, we saved their butts last time.”
“We don’t have any offensive capabilities, Nicholas. Therefore, we are left with assessing the situation as it develops and trying our best not to die.”
Neek gave Yorden an intense stare and then leaned forward, jabbing a finger pointedly in the air towards the cargo bay. “Or you could use the Ardulan gunner to punch a hole through both lines and keep the Risalians off our tail until we can…until we can…” Neek searched for plausible scenarios and continued to flounder.
“Until we what?” Yorden asked, cutting her off. “Until we hopefully drift to Callis Spaceport? If that miracle were to occur, do you think anyone there would help us go against the Risalians? Or maybe we’ll drift to the Terran Wormhole and bring the violence to my homeworld?” Yorden’s voice was firm. “No, I think not. Whatever is happening—whatever is going to happen, it’s happening here, now, when we exit the wormhole.”
Chapter 22: Risalian Cutter 32
No Ardulan construct is to be left alive.
—Intercepted communication from outside the Charted Systems to the Mmnnuggl Flagship Llttrin, November 6th, 2060 CE
They were all dead. Every Risalian on the cutter—including Captain Ran—electrocuted. Well, Ran was shot, too, but at this point that really didn’t matter.
Markin Kelm couldn’t get the smell out of hir nose, couldn’t shake the crinkled, dark blue bodies from hir mind. What had remained of the cutter was entirely inorganic. The cellulose bindings, coatings, and interweaves within the biometals were all gone, leaving behind a fragile, metallic shell. It was a mercy that Xouy suggested Kelm investigate the matter personally. No captain should have been made to see this.
There wasn’t a weapon in the Charted Systems that could accomplish this level of damage. As far as Kelm knew, there wasn’t a weapon anywhere that could accomplish that. Xe had majored in Ardulan studies at the Markin Training Center on Risal, had completed a research study on Ardulan Talents, but this was beyond even a team of the creatures. Certainly the girl had shown some precocious Talent, but this was insane. The Genomics Sector had made a misstep in her creation. Funding never should have been given to Cell-Tal for the project. They had all made a grievous error.
Kelm swallowed hard, rubbing hir neck as xe did so. If the Ardulan girl on that cutter—the one body they hadn’t found—was responsible, xe didn’t know how recovery would even be possible. That kind of power couldn’t be contained. Shouldn’t be contained. The only option was destruction.
“We’re exiting the wormhole now, Markin,” the second said.
“Inform the Ardulan gunner to open fire the moment we’ve cleared the wormhole safety corridor. Take out the Pledge as quickly as possible. We’ll worry about the Mmnnuggls afterwards.”
“Yes, Markin,” the second replied. Kelm watched hir walk purposefully to the weapons station and relay information to the second don Ardulan male sitting in the chair—an Ardulan who, up until now, had an excellent service record. Second dons were stable, Kelm reminded hirself. Powerful. They were in their physical prime without the caution that came to all life with age. If the gunner reacted before the girl did, if the shots broke through the Pledge’s armor quickly, it would be enough.
“We’re clear of the corridor, Markin,” a third called from the navigation station. “The Ardulan is opening fire.”
Kelm watched the Ardulan male as his fingers flew over the touchscreen. Xe then turned back to see the corona of the first, second, and third laser flash illuminate the viewscreen, the light visible even though the weapons were being fired from the underside of the ship.
“Impact?” Kelm called out.
“Yes, Markin. All three shots were direct hits. The Pledge is leaking atmosphere.”
“Finish the job—” Kelm’s command cut off as the bridge flooded with light. The cutter hummed with its first impact.
“Multiple shots fired from the Mmnnuggl force,” th
e third called out. Another blast rocked the ship, and Kelm had to grip the console before hir.
“Status of the Pledge?” Kelm spoke over the emergency klaxons.
“Last two shots went wide,” the second responded. “The Ardulan is still sending off volleys, but he can’t account for the Pledge’s sporadic juking.”
Another Ardulan malfunction. The girl was onboard then—it was certain—and she was still alive. Kelm gripped the chair’s armrests tightly, causing hir knuckles to crack. “How far away is the Pledge currently?”
More shots hit the cutter. The communications console erupted into flames.
Kelm tried to stay calm. Laser fire wasn’t working. The Pledge could not be allowed to escape. Xe had to rectify the situation at any cost. Belm could not grow to adulthood in a galaxy of Ardulan influence. Belm had to be protected.
“The Pledge is less than thirty seconds away at top speed,” a third said. “Possibly more if we lose an engine.”
“Then take us to top speed before that happens,” the markin said. “Aim this ship for the Pledge.” A smiling child holding a stuffed titha danced across Kelm’s vision, and the markin said a silent goodbye.
“Ram them?”
“Ram them.”
“Yes, Markin.”
“For the Charted Systems,” a third whispered under hir breath.
“For the Charted Systems.”
“For the Charted Systems,” the markin echoed, joining hir crew’s chant.
Then the tip of the cutter plowed through the Pledge’s starboard flank.
Chapter 23: Mmnnuggl Flagship
“Coming to you live from Baltec in the Minoran System, I’m Yiru Chang. As you can see behind me, panic has broken out on Baltec as residents crowd the spaceports in a frantic dash to make it off-world. The pandemonium comes after confirmation that at least fifty ships of unknown origin have been spotted in the Callis System, and that laser fire has been exchanged with at least one Risalian craft. It’s good to know the Risalians are still looking out for the Charted Systems, even in the midst of this chaos.”
—Broadcast from The Galactic News, November 10th, 2060 CE
Nicholas awoke with a raging headache and no idea where he was. A pale green light swung over his head. The air, smelling of antiseptic and wintergreen, was warm across his bare skin. He found himself momentarily enjoying the sensation of the breeze across his face and chest, down his torso to…
Nicholas sat up quickly—a little too quickly, his head spinning—and confirmed that he was naked. Not the kind of naked where someone had the decency to lay a towel over the more personal areas, but naked naked, and on an unfamiliar ship with no fabric in sight.
In the lime green room, there were three other beds, all empty. The wall closest to him lit up sporadically with small, red dots that stayed lit until another took its place. The bed had little in the way of anything resembling cloth and was far too firm for his liking.
“Good andal to you,” a voice greeted in unaccented Common. Nicholas swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood—as much as he could manage with the low ceiling—to face the nondescript Mmnnuggl bobbing near the doorway.
The humanlike ears wiggled on either side of the sphere as it spoke again. “Ardulum spares you as well. Your friend recovered some time ago.”
“Excuse me?” Nicholas stammered. “Where am I?”
The sphere bobbed once, both ears curling into tight ovals. “Short term memory loss is to be expected. Terran heads are soft. You’re on the Mmnnuggl flagship Llttrin, in the medical bay. Our transports picked you out of the rubble of your ship after the collision with the Risalians.” The Mmnnuggl said the last word with disgust.
“Yeah,” Nicholas said slowly. Yorden had ordered them all into decompression suits before they exited the wormhole. Nicholas remembered Neek carrying him to the cargo hold and then returning to the cockpit to fly the ship. He remembered Yorden lifting a seal on the suit and sticking a long needle in his skin. He remembered the face of the sad-eyed Ardulan…
“You rescued us all?” Nicholas asked. “Neek, Yorden, Emn, the Ardulan woman—they’re all okay?”
The Mmnnuggl hesitated, emanating a series of fast clicking noises. Its ears unfurled and curled back again even tighter. The sphere spun before floating towards the door. “Come, Terran Nicholas,” it said. “I’ll take you to see our captain. She can answer your questions more fully.”
Nicholas took several hurried steps and then realized he still had no clothing. His cheeks flushed. “Think maybe I could get something to cover up with?” he called after the sphere.
The Mmnnuggl spun around again. “Are you cold?”
“No…” Nicholas stammered. “It’s just, uh, Mister…?”
“My name is Gglltyll, and I am female.”
“Sorry, Giltil.” Nicholas stumbled over the name, his tongue thick in his mouth with the double consonants. “I’m not cold, but, uh, humans don’t like to show their reproductive organs much.”
Gglltyll bobbed twice. “Bipeds of the Systems also seem to require things in their hands frequently. The Neek is always picking things up. Very unusual. We don’t have textiles onboard this ship and have taken yours to prevent microbial contamination, but your companion made a similar request. Some of our allies are bipedal and may have similar mores. If garments have been located within the fleet, the captain will know.”
Nicholas glanced down and quickly resumed his pace behind Gglltyll. “I guess I should be grateful I’m not cold,” he muttered.
* * *
By the time the pair reached the captain’s office, Nicholas had such a severe crick in his lower back that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand upright again. Once inside, he realized that it didn’t matter anyway, since the ceiling was even lower in the captain’s office than in the corridor.
“Nicholas St. John of the Mercy’s Pledge. Eighteen rotations. Originating from Earth. An adult, by Terran standards, but a youth by Charted Systems dictate.” The captain zoomed from head height to the floor and then back up, rotating as it did so. “I see that your body has finally healed. Your friend will be delighted to see you walking around.”
Nicholas blushed. “About that… I don’t suppose you might have some fabric around? Giltil said you were aware of the, uh, modesty needs of bipeds.”
The captain floated closer to Nicholas and beeped several times in quick succession. “Yes. The Neek loudly informed us of her desire for clothing. We have many biped species in the Alliance with similar sizes to Terrans and Neek. We have a store of such clothing on one of our other pods. It will be brought onto the ship in the next few days.”
Nicholas raised his eyebrows. Several days? He started to protest, but then thought better of it. “Thank you, Captain,” he responded instead.
The sphere beeped again, ears rippling as the skin, or what Nicholas supposed was skin, of the Mmnnuggl shifted closer to a purple tint.
“Do you recognize me, Terran Nicholas St. John? We last spoke at a dinner reception on my ship at Callis Spaceport. I transferred a stasis chamber into your captain’s possession. I am Captain Llgg.” Llgg spun around three times counterclockwise and then zoomed in so close to Nicholas that the young man’s nose touched the surface of the sphere.
Nicholas inched back uncomfortably and finally sat directly on the floor. That was a mistake. The floor was jagged, black metal and cut into his skin. “Of course, Captain. I remember the cargo in particular.”
Captain Llgg backed away slightly from Nicholas and landed on the floor. Nicholas could only assume she was attempting to “sit” with him and make the experience less weird. It didn’t help.
“Terran Nicholas St. John, I am going to speak with you now about Oorin. We were not honest with you. I apologize for that.” The captain’s voice sounded tired. “I have explained this to your friend as well. Mercy’s Pledge offered a unique opportunity to stash awkward cargo. We needed a chance to regroup.”
Nicho
las tried to process that information. “So Emn wasn’t a gift for saving your ship?”
“The modified Ardulan child?” Llgg rolled in a tight circle on the floor, edging closer to Nicholas. “The Alliance was unsure of the best course of action. Her time on the Pledge gave the Alliance leaders a chance to make a decision as to her fate.”
Why does everyone else always get to decide Emn’s fate? Nicholas wondered. Out loud, the young man cleared his throat before addressing the captain. “What was that decision?”
Captain Llgg rolled three degrees to her right, giving Nicholas the distinct impression that she was cocking her head at him.
“The Eld deliver the law. Assessment is required. Destruction is likely.” Captain Llgg’s tone softened. “Children of any species endear themselves to their caregivers. However, the Eld tolerate no imperfections. She is not of Ardulum. She is a curiosity for their amusement, and their amusement alone.”
Nicholas flushed with anger but kept his mouth clamped shut.
“Risalians are tinkerers. Opportunists. They took the scraps of a great race and attempted to repair them. This was also not of Ardulum. Creatures such as the girl contain too much power. The Eld cannot allow this. It threatens Ardulum. It threatens the Eld.”
“What are you talking about?” Nicholas asked. “Who are the Eld? Why do they get to decide what happens to Emn? She’s powerful, sure, but you…they, can’t just kill her for that!”
Llgg didn’t respond, nor did she move. Nicholas tried to focus. How would Yorden handle the situation? Was tact required or some type of cultural deference? Morality was a social institution to some extent, but there had to be some intergalactic standards. Nicholas decided to take a chance.
“How does judging her on what she might do make you any better than the Risalians?” he asked quietly.
Llgg spun around once in agitation. “You do not understand,” she said, voice terse. “The decision is not yours to make. You and Neek will be free to leave at your leisure—we will provide you with a small pod and safe passage through our fleet in thanks for your help with the Risalians and your unwitting role with the girl. Emn will remain with us. When reinforcements arrive, she will return to the Alliance.”