by Juno Wells
All the while, Isla kept communicating with the alien ship, firing off questions and then translating the answers over to the comms officer and Trazzak. The second-in-command looked increasingly impressed with every passing second, giving her more and more technical and detailed questions that the engineers posed, but the interpreter never blinked. Even the crazy engineering language didn't give her any trouble in the garbled language. Vaant couldn't help but admire her professionalism himself. Despite the rocky start to the day, she remained calm and competent.
The damaged ship drifted in front of them on the viewing screen, and Vaant bit back a curse. Whoever attacked the civilian transporter didn't intend for anyone to survive. Their engines were both destroyed, and lights flickered inside as everything else failed. What a miserable end — waiting for the last shields to fail and eventually dying in the vacuum of space. Vaant waited until Trazzak brought the Galaxos close enough to extend a transfer arm, one of the unique adaptions he'd brought on the ship after taking command. The transfer arm created a pressurized corridor between his ship and a second, allowing personnel to walk between the ships without having to use departure pods. Transferring such a large number of people would take far too long in the pods; the corridor was the only way.
Then he caught Isla's arm and led the way off the bridge, grabbing two of the survival suits as he went. "I need you with me to translate."
"I'm only doing this to help them," she said, frowning as she pulled the suit on without breaking stride or even hesitating. "If they weren't in serious trouble, I'd let you suffer."
"Good to know," he said. "Don't do anything stupid or you'll endanger your friends."
Isla gave him a dirty look. "Don't threaten them. And you're a fool for not letting them help — at least Rowan and Maisy. You'll need the engineering and medical help, from what they said."
Vaant caught Frrar's eye as they reached the landing bay; the engineer focused on setting up the transfer arm, though he nodded when Vaant said, "When you're done with that, get the engineer from the secured quarters. Rowan-something will be able to help you fix the engines and shields."
Their medical officer ran past with an armload of supplies, already setting up a triage area right there in the bay. Vaant gestured for Vrix to approach. "Get the other women out here. Maisy for medical, Rowan for engineering, and the other two to assist with triage if you can control them."
"Cecily would like the opportunity to inflict more damage," Vrix said. "She should stay behind, I think."
"She only wants to inflict damage on you," Isla said. "She'll help the others and leave her conflict with you for later. And you look like you'd like the opportunity to receive more damage, so maybe you should just throttle back on the attitude."
Vrix turned slightly orange with irritation. "We will have a discussion about attitude later, human. There is not time right now." Then he turned on his heel and strode back into the ship.
"Do not antagonize him," Vaant said.
Isla turned on him. "You just kidnapped us. Don't talk to me about antagonizing. We don't have time for all the things I'd like to say to you."
The engineers stood back, though Frrar didn't look confident. "There's so much damage to the other ship, Captain. I don't know if the lock will hold."
"We'll test it." Vaant caught the interpreter's arm once more and headed for the tunnel. He secured his helmet and tested the air filter in the suit, then looked at the woman. "Ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." She latched her helmet into place, adjusted the visor, and stepped into the tunnel.
He'd intended to go first, but had to catch up instead as Isla stormed through the tunnel with determination in every line of her body. She didn't wait for him or even look back, only focused on the damaged ship and a throng of injured squid-like aliens waiting for help. Vaant couldn't help but admire her fire and passion, as well as the very inviting rear that taunted him through the bulky survival suit. She might be smaller than most Xaravian women, but she certainly looked tough and curvy enough to be a welcome bed-partner. Even with the attitude.
He smiled at the thought as they reached the end of the tunnel and he had to work the air lock. The moment the door opened and they stepped onto the smoky, crowded, dark dock of the failing ship, Isla touched the speaker box on her suit and started giving orders. Frrar and the engineers were close behind them, and immediately set off for the engine rooms and generators, and Rowan squeezed Isla's hand as she passed at a run.
Vaant greeted the damaged ship's captain as Isla directed the wounded to cross the tunnel to the Galaxos, and she divided her attention between translating for him and providing reassurances and instructions to the dozens and dozens of injured civilians. Vaant needed to know if the Argo was responsible, but couldn't ask directly since his only interpreter would no doubt take offense at just the question. He gathered as much information as he could on when and how the unprovoked attack occurred. The interpreter's ability to multitask nearly left him in the dust, and his respect for her grew with each squid she helped save. He'd never met anyone like her.
Chapter 7
Isla
Isla focused on the injured passengers, only paying a little attention to Vaant as he tried to speak with the damaged ship's captain. She reassured the young ones as they dribbled ink in sloppy tears and begged her to help them. Isla's heart broke, but she kept her emotions under wraps. She could deal with the grief of seeing so many terrible wounds later, once she was back safe in her quarters with Griggs and Jess.
Vaant spoke to her in High Xarav, no doubt hoping that no one else would understand. "Frrar doesn't know if the engines can be salvaged. We might need to evacuate immediately."
Isla stared at him. "But there's so many of them. Your ship can't handle this many passengers."
"I know," he said, soft and apologetic, as if disappointed he had to tell her. "But there might not be any other options."
Isla dropped her voice to a near hiss. "Are you telling me the glorious warriors of Xarav would leave a hundred innocent civilians to die slowly of suffocation on a marooned ship?"
"I cannot risk my crew and my ship — it does us no use if we all die. We will save who we can. They are still working on the engines. There's still a chance."
She took a deep breath and adjusted her sleeves, calling to the squids to send the women, children, and injured through the tunnel to the Galaxos. Then she turned back to Vaant. "Fix the engines. We're not abandoning them to die."
His skin flashed briefly blue and then green, and he looked more grim than she remembered seeing him, even on the Argo as he argued with Witz. "Then we have work to do in the engine room, don't we?"
The thought of getting stranded on a dying ship in the middle of a mostly wild quadrant made her stomach shiver with nerves, but she'd never let him see it. Isla squared her shoulders and started walking. "Yes."
Vaant caught her arm to draw her up short, and Isla turned to give him a piece of her mind about being manhandled, stopping short when she saw his face in the clear visor. The Xarav didn't let her go, and heat thrilled through her and cut into the knee-knocking fear that gripped her. "I go first. Follow me. Do not touch anything."
She froze in his gaze, then managed to say, "Then start walking."
A hint of a smile softened his expression through the visor of the survival suit, then Vaant turned on his heel and strode deeper into the ship, nearly disappearing as the emergency lights flickered and flashed. Isla hurried to catch up, pausing only to give instructions to other passengers limping toward the departure bay. Somehow Vaant knew his way through the ship without needing any of the signs occasionally posted on the walls. Isla tried to breathe normally, though the heat and weight of the suit wore her down, as Vaant paused at an intersection and she could finally catch up. "Have you been on this ship before?"
He shook his head, then turned left and continued on, though at a slower pace as he studied her. "No."
"How do you know y
our way around so well? The engine room can't possibly be —"
"It's this way," he said, gesturing down yet another hall. "There are only a few places on a ship the engine room can be, and based on the design and what we saw burning when we approached, it's fairly easy to guess."
"We might have a matter of minutes to save this ship, and you're guessing?"
Vaant raised his eyebrows, then tilted his head at a large set of doors surrounded by red lights. "We're here."
Isla scowled, biting her tongue, and shoved past him toward the entrance to the engine room. Vaant smirked and opened the doors, leaning into a smoke-filled chamber populated with his people and the ship's crew working frantically to get enough power to the life-support systems.
Rowan had somehow climbed up the generators to almost five times the height of the Xaravians, and held on with only one hand as she leaned around and held out her other when she saw Isla. "Lennox, up here. Five-core wrench and your brain, girl — I gotta interpret some of these signs."
"Right," Isla said. She didn't bother to ask how Rowan got up there. She managed to find trouble itself, and trouble spots in machines, with unerring accuracy. Isla dug through a nearby tool cabinet for the wrench, trying to tuck it into her belt, and turned to figure out how to climb up to where Rowan still dangled from the steaming engines. She ran smack into Vaant's broad chest, stumbling back a few steps.
"No," he said, shaking his head.
Isla stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're not going up there. It's too dangerous."
"She needs my help," Isla said, enunciating each syllable carefully. "I'm going."
The Xaravian captain didn't budge. "It is too risky. I will send one of my men. Frrar can go."
Frrar threw his shoulder into one of the splinters that came off the secondary generator, face contorted as he tried to keep the entire thing from falling apart. "I'm a little busy, Captain."
"Someone else," Vaant said. His skin swirled red and orange, and he nudged Isla toward a sheltered alcove in the chaotic room. "Wait here. They will say when they need translation."
Frrar grumbled and shouted for help, and Isla relayed the request to the squids also working in the engine room. As the crew surged and distracted Vaant, she dodged around him and bolted for a ladder on the other side of the engine. He roared in anger and lunged to catch her, but Isla leapt for a rung and hauled herself out of his reach. There wasn't time to argue, and he wasted what few precious minutes they had.
Isla tossed the wrench up to Rowan and scrambled around the damaged equipment as Vaant tried to haul himself up the flimsy ladder and around some of the sparks and bent metal. Rowan swung down a few feet to get his attention, gesturing at the other side of the engine. "Hey, hero — yeah, you. Get down from there, otherwise you’ll bring the whole thing down. It won't support your weight. Go to the north side and shore up the stays. If we get this thing humming, it might fly off completely. We need to make it secure."
His teeth bared in a threat and for a second, Isla feared he would tear the entire engine apart to drag her back down, but his engineer, Frrar, shouted something at him that she'd never heard before. Vaant snarled and pointed a threatening finger at her. "Be safe. Don't do anything foolish, girl."
Rowan muttered, "What the hell is wrong with him?" as she tapped the wrench against the machinery and clambered down to where Isla still clung to the ladder. "Can you translate these instructions here?"
"Got it." Isla looped her arm through one of the ladder rungs and squinted through the smoke and her fogging visor to try and read the intricate, looping script the squids used. "This is worse than the Anabic alphabet. Can you see it at all?"
"That's why I need you, darlin'." Rowan pulled a hammer out of the deep cargo pocket on her suit and smacked it against some of the bent machinery. "We don't have much time."
"I know. And there's not enough room on the Xaravian ship to save everyone. We have to fix this." Isla took a deep breath and said a short prayer to the god her mother loved, and knew it was her responsibility as an officer of the Fleet to give her life in order to save the innocent. It was her code and her creed, and she wasn't going to let something simple like a foggy visor condemn hundreds of civilians to a painful death. "Okay, here we go."
Rowan glanced back just as Isla unstrapped her helmet and hauled it off, and the engineer's expression froze in horror. "Isla, don't you dare —"
"It's fine." The smoke and acrid smell of burning fuel made her eyes water, and the thin oxygen set her to coughing without any support from her survival suit. The suit began buzzing a warning as the pressure changed, and Isla fumbled to disable it as she stared at the script. A roar from the floor below almost distracted her, but she focused only on the script. "There's a lever about two feet up and to your right. Lock that in the upward position, and then —"
Isla read and translated as fast as she could as something shook the engines, and Rowan scrambled to follow the directions to restart the generator and power supply. Everything seemed to be coming apart. More noises from below distracted her for just a heartbeat, mostly because all the squids fled and only the Xaravians remained. Vaant looked apoplectic with rage, trying to tear the metal apart with his bare hands, while the Xaravian engineer scrambled to repair what he destroyed.
Rowan leaned over to shout at them in one of the universal languages. "Are the engines secured?"
Frrar ducked as Vaant tried to throw him off. "Yes. But there's no way —"
"Males," Rowan said under her breath, glancing at Isla. "They're the same in every species. And put your fucking helmet back on."
Isla squinted at the instructions, shaking her head, even as her lungs screamed for oxygen and her eyes teared at the pain. "Not yet. Turn the last dial three clicks counterclockwise, depress the lever, and hit the button with what looks like a bunch of sevens and nines."
"Roger dodger. Put your goddamn helmet on, girl, or you and I are gonna mix." Rowan shook the wrench at her even as she hit the levers and slammed her palm against the massive button covered in something like Earther numbers.
Isla certainly intended to put her helmet on and re-engage the survival systems, but the engines rumbled to life and everything vibrated. Rowan cheered and swung from the machinery like a monkey, tossing the wrench down to a grinning Frrar. Vaant looked stunned, and still angry, when Isla managed to look down at him. She tried to secure her helmet, still holding onto the engine, but something rattled in the machinery and everything jolted. The helmet flew out of her hand and then Isla felt her grip slip. She had just a heartbeat to see Rowan trying to catch her arm before Isla fell into smoke and darkness.
Chapter 8
Vaant
Vaant wanted to tear apart the damn engine until both women were on the floor and he could drag them to safety. He'd been a fool to bring them to the engine room; it was too dangerous. And he almost lost his mind when Isla took her helmet off and exposed herself to the sandworms only knew what in the disgusting air.
Frrar took one look at him and sent all the squid crewmembers out of there to the adjacent engineering room, so at least Vaant wouldn't kill one of them by accident. The engineer cleared his throat as the women worked feverishly to correct a problem with the power core. "The Earther knows what she's doing with machinery. She can fix it."
"It's the other one that —" Vaant cut himself off. He'd known the woman less than a full day, hardly long enough to care whether she got herself killed from sheer stupidity. And yet something in his chest tightened every time she frowned, and something in him eased when she smiled. He wanted her tucked away safely on his ship, preferably in his quarters, so he didn't have to worry about her falling to her death in some random ship. He gritted his teeth until his entire head ached. "They're both taking unnecessary risks."
"Right. The only reason she's up there is because it nearly fell apart when I climbed up, and —" Frrar started to grin. "And I wanted to watch her climb it. You have to admit th
ese Earther women are entertaining."
"Keep your mind on what's important," Vaant said. He shouted at Isla, demanding she be more careful as she scrambled up and down and around on the sharp metal. It was bad enough she breathed the air without her helmet, but if she tore a hole in her survival suit and anything happened, there'd be no way to save her. She was absolutely the most infuriating creature he'd ever come across.
The human engineer's arm shot out and smacked into part of the machine, and then — in a small miracle — the engine rumbled. Chugged to life. Pulled at the makeshift stays that held it in place, but everything remained secured. Vaant started to breathe again. Frrar rushed to the control panel and started making adjustments, decreasing the power to the engines so they didn't tear themselves apart, and he yelled into the hall for the squids to return, though they didn't seem inclined to enter the smoky room.
Vaant looked away for one second and when he glanced back to the towering machine, his hearts stopped. Isla slipped and dropped her helmet, expression dazed, and then everything seemed to slow around him. Vaant rushed forward as the engineer tried to grab her, but Isla continued to fall, and he hurdled a massive tangle of abandoned tools to reach her. He launched straight up into the air to grab her before her limp body could collide with a jagged piece of metal, and rent his own suit on the damn thing. He didn't care. The pressure stabilized in the room. He could survive the trip back to the Galaxos, but she looked terrible — pale and slightly blue around the lips, completely unconscious.