And What of Earth?

by Stuart Collings

  He hesitated, trying to figure out if he should provide any information. “Homeworld. From a settlement in the Salt Desert.”

  “Is it a nice place? If so, I hope to go there once I get to Homeworld.”

  He pointed the weapon at Jennifer. “Stop talking! You’re trying to confuse me!” The weapon went back to being pressed against the hostage’s head.

  “You know that the mission commander and I are now mates? That the symbiote has accepted me and that I will be the next Great Mother?”

  There was no response at first. Finally, he said “Yes. I can see the symbiote.”

  “In a few years, I’ll be your Mother. That means, you will be my son. Please tell me what is wrong, son. Let me help you.” She took another tiny step forward, and tried to reproduce the facial expression they had for care and concern.

  “No one understands! We are doomed! All of us are doomed! No one will listen!”

  “I am listening, my son. You can tell me. Why are we doomed? What horrible thing do you think will happen?”

  “He is coming. He is coming to punish us. This mission is a complete failure. He will punish us for failing the Empire. We should already be gone!”

  “You are afraid? You see disaster coming and no one else can see it?” Another baby step.

  The panic in his eyes was more evident. “He will punish us. We will be disgraced. The dishonor will be unbearable. How can you not see it?”

  Another small step. She was now only 5 feet away from where he was sitting. The weapon was still pressed into his hostage’s temple. “You think that our Father is coming here to punish us for failing the mission? Why would the Emperor come all this way to punish anyone?”

  “He is coming. We all know. He is coming, and he will punish us for failing him.”

  She took another small step forward. She was now just 4 feet away. She crouched, so she wouldn’t be towering over him. “Yes, I know he is coming. But he isn’t coming to punish the mission team. He is coming to visit me. His new daughter. He wants to meet with me and my birth father. That is why we are still here. We are waiting so he can meet my birth father. Oh, my son, I understand why you are so afraid. I understand perfectly. But there is nothing to be afraid of. He knows all about this mission and the problems that have arisen. He’s been getting daily briefings. There is no need for him to come and investigate what went wrong. He is coming all this way to meet me. His new daughter.” She dropped to one knee, putting herself within arm’s reach of the male.

  “I can’t bear the dishonor. All my life, I have wanted to serve in the military. To serve the Empire and the Emperor. And now, this. Our Mother will disown us. We will not belong!”

  “He is not coming to punish you.” Slowly, she raised her right hand, and caressed him on his cheek. “My child. I understand why you would be upset. To be disowned would be unbearable to anyone. But he is not coming because he is displeased with any of you. He is journeying all this way from Homeworld because he wishes to meet me and my birth father. Isn’t that wonderful? That the Emperor would choose to come all this way to meet his new daughter?” She continued to caress his cheek.

  “He is not coming to punish us?”

  “No, my child. He and my mate speak several times a day about coming here and meeting me. I am the first alien the symbiote has ever chosen. He is amazed that it would do so. This is why he wants to meet me. And why he wants to do it here, and not on Homeworld.”

  The panic in his eyes started to fade. “He is not angry with us?”

  “No my son. He is not angry with you. He knows how difficult this mission has been. The heat. The oppressive gravity. The violent storms. This is probably the most difficult survey mission ever conducted. He is coming to see me.”

  “Are you sure, Mother?”

  The female captive’s head jerked when she heard him call Jennifer “Mother”.

  “Yes, I am sure. Now, my son, I need for you to be really brave for me. In a moment, I will ask you to release the female. You don’t need to worry. I will still be here with you. Will you do that for me?”

  His voice was now that of a small boy. “I will try.”

  “That would be so wonderful,” she told him. Turning her attention to the female, she said “When he releases you, make no effort to subdue him. Move slowly away, and go back onto the field and report to a superior. Understood?”

  “Yes, Jennifer Hodges.”

  “Good girl.” She looked into the eyes of the male, and started caressing his cheek again. “My son, I need for you to release the female. Will you do that for me please?”

  Hesitantly, the weapon was withdrawn from her head, and his left arm slowly opened. “I am so proud of you, my son. That is so brave of you. — You may leave now, daughter.”

  The female slowly stood and walked towards the stern, where a number of the Wakira stood.

  “You are doing so well,” Jennifer reassured him. “I am so pleased.” More caresses caused the weapon to be lowered. “You are so brave. Would you like to go see the physician so he can help you cope with your fear and anxiety?”

  In a very small voice, he answered “Yes.”

  “Before we can stand, you need to toss your weapon away, so the others will know that you are not armed. I will protect you. They will not harm you. I won’t let them. Can you do that? Can you make the weapon safe and toss it aside where they can see it?”

  He didn’t say anything. He pressed a control on the weapon, and slowly tossed it out onto the playing field.

  “You are so brave—” she said softly to him. “Do not come closer!” she shouted to those behind her. “We are going to see the physician. Give us room. And make sure all weapons are holstered!” She resumed the caresses. “I will protect you. Like all mothers do, I will protect my pup. Are you ready to stand up and walk onto the ship?”

  He stood slowly without answering.

  “I will help you walk. Don’t be afraid. No one will hurt my pup.” She stood, gently took his left forearm, and drew him close to her. As they walked, the others parted, giving them space to walk around to the open hatchway. Jennifer saw Poke and realized that she needed her help in finding where the sickbay was on the ship. “Poke, will you walk with us to the medical offices?” As Poke drew closer, Medahso tensed. “It is okay, my child. The female is my best friend. We are practically sisters. She won’t harm you—.”

  Jennifer continued to murmur reassurances to the male all the way to the sickbay, and while he was sedated. As she and Poke left the ship afterwards, Jennifer couldn’t help but notice that members of the mission crew were talking about what had happened. “She just talked to him, and he surrendered…” “He was calling her Mother…” “Her voice must have some sort of magical power…”

  As they stepped through the hatchway back out onto the football field, Poke gently grasped Jennifer’s elbow and led her away from the others. Finding a quiet spot near the west sidelines, she turned and faced the Terran. “Jennifer, what were you thinking? He could have killed you!”

  Jennifer smiled at her alien friend’s concern for her. “No he wouldn’t. Didn’t you hear him? When he wanted me to not come closer, he kept saying ‘Don’t make me hurt her’. This wasn’t someone who wanted to kill and destroy; this was a cry for help. No one would listen to his fears. So, I agreed to listen. Then I substituted a different plausible reason for the Emperor coming, and he accepted it. Once that happened, it was just a matter of getting him to release the hostage, drop his weapon and agree to be medicated.”

  “Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, Jennifer, I discover that I don’t know you at all. That was both the most stupid and the most courageous thing that I have ever witnessed. Whoever has been sending the Emperor information about this mission will undoubtedly include a description of what you just did. I think you may have earned some respect from our Father.”

  But will that help Myka? Or me? Or my species? “That’s not why I did it. Someone needed
help. I’m kinda compulsive about that. Which is why I’m here, with a symbiote sitting in the back of my head. Sometimes I think she’s taking notes about me.”

  “She?”

  “I had to give it a gender. She’s a she, until she tells me otherwise. Do you know if they ever speak to their hosts? With actual words?”

  Poke thought for a moment. “I do not remember hearing anything one way or the other. Our Mother has never mentioned her symbiote speaking to her. But that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t. It is another one of those ‘It is the way it is’ that you find so frustrating.” She chittered after the last statement.

  “Humans are inherently curious. We can’t help ourselves. We want to know, and being told that we can never know just makes us more determined to find out. But, I remember the story Myka told me after the joining, so I won’t press the issue. I assume that if she wants to talk to me, that she will. If she doesn’t, then she won’t.” They walked to the base of the stairs and sat in adjacent seats. “Instead of a language lesson, Poke, tell me about this ‘disowning’ thing that he was so fearful of—.”

  In one of the many abandoned buildings, four determined men huddled together and tried to figure out their next move.

  “We can’t move it into position, not with sentries posted at nearly every street corner! What the hell are we supposed to do?”

  They all nodded. One asked “Why can’t we radio the colonel and get him to tell us what we need to do?”

  Randy, the leader, spoke. “You know why. The radio is there simply to coordinate the attacks and to let the others outside know that we were successful. They’ve got to have people and computers listening to every frequency. And they’ve probably got radio detectors. We start calling, they’ll be able to figure where we are and what we intend to do. That’s why we have to maintain radio silence. The army has already shut down cell service and there sure aren’t any wi-fi hotspots in this dump of a town. We have to come up with a plan of our own.” He turned to the guy who had been chosen to be the munitions expert. “How long would it take to get it to the hiding spot we made in the cemetery?”

  “The damn thing weighs a ton, Randy. Literally. Four of us, given the fact that we’re all still limping — 30 minutes, assuming we can see where we’re going. More if it’s in the dark. More still if we have to lug it through the scrub brush in behind the houses.”

  Randy thought for a moment. “Three of you. I’ll create a diversion — get the sentries to chase me. I’d just have to get halfway to the perimeter east of town to give you guys 30 minutes.” He thought some more. “I’ll carjack a car west of town. Give the person enough time to notify the army. I’ll speed through town, and make them follow me. That’s the only thing I can think of—.”

  What he didn’t know was that the standing order was that there were to be no pursuits. It was thought that, since all the roads into town were sealed, no one would be able to escape the exclusion zone. His plan was doomed to fail.

  Chapter 13

  Thursday morning at the clinic was completely dead, so Jennifer spent the time reading one of the medical texts she had acquired while working at the VA hospital in South Dakota. While she knew that she had committed to returning with the Wakira, she continued to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor. Even if it meant teaching herself.

  Lunch with General Comiston was likewise quiet. He poked and prodded about what the Big Event was going to be, and Jennifer reminded him of her commitment to not putting any of the Wakira at risk. She brought up the subject of the 4 mystery men, and the hole in the security scheme. After they had finished eating, Jennifer suggested (at a slightly greater volume) that the Wakiran ship hovering overhead might have images of the people who snuck into town, and that they might be willing to share them with the army. He looked sideways at her, obviously noticing the not-very-subtle increase in volume but said nothing. He was more taken aback when she asked him how much a hospital corpsman made in the army, just as he was leaving. His response of “I should know but I haven’t a clue” brought a knowing smile to Jennifer’s face.

  She wandered the 4 room clinic after he left and took inventory of the nearly empty shelves. Either Bethy or Barb had coughed up money for a supply of gloves and gauze and assorted bandages. She looked wistfully at the lone remaining sterile surgical pack. That could have been her future, had the Wakira not come. If she hadn’t decided to play the role of the helpful native. Jennifer Allison Hodges, surgeon. Specializing in prosthetics and the reattachment of severed nerve bundles. Assuming that technology would have caught up with her dreams. All gone, like an early mist by mid-morning. Instead of getting to heal bodies, she was going to hold together an interstellar empire, just by Being There, apparently. Assuming that her new “children” would accept her as their “Mother”. Still, Medahso did. Would he end up being the first of many, or just one of the few?

  She poured herself into the medical text once she had resumed her perch behind the counter. Vascular surgery. She concentrated on the pictures, and read and re-read the descriptions of cutting and suturing. “Most mothers just put on bandaids and kiss the wounds to make them better. I’m going to be so horribly overqualified,” she said aloud and then giggled. “Don’t worry, males,” she added, “I just had a thought that was amusing only to me.”

  Just then, she heard a car speed through the intersection, heading west to east on Twin Elm. “Outsider,” she commented. “If he doesn’t hit the brakes, he’ll never make the blind switchback.” Ten minutes later, she saw an ambulance hurry through the same intersection with sirens wailing. “He didn’t hit the brakes after all.” Still another 10 minutes later, the county rescue vehicle coming from the north, turned left off of Main onto Twin Elm to join the EMTs. It was odd that they were so close at hand. Wally and Steve normally would take 30 minutes or more to get to Jewel. The rescue truck was normally another 20 minutes after them. A good reason why the survivability rate was so low for accidents heading down into the ravine. If the driver of the car somehow managed to survive hurtling off the road into whatever, his condition would be far beyond what ministrations I can provide, she thought.

  It was scarcely 10 minutes later when she heard the sirens approaching. She was surprised when the ambulance pulled into the former gas station, diagonally across from the clinic. Through the door window, she could see Wally and Steve pull a stretcher from the back of the ambulance and hurriedly wheel it towards the clinic. She sprang out of her chair and grabbed a pair of gloves.

  The door burst open and they manhandled the stretcher into the waiting area. “What are you guys doing?” she asked them. “Why aren’t you hightailing it down to North Platte?”

  “We called for an airlift from St. Francis Hospital in Grand Island,” Steve panted. “It would take us a good 2 hours to get there by car. This way, they can get him there in just over half the time.”

  Jennifer looked down at the crash victim. She recognized him immediately as one of the four strangers who came for treatment just last week. “I know this guy,” she told them. “I mean, I’ve seen him before. Not from here. Did you find any ID?”

  “He’s a John Doe, Jenn,” Wally told her. “No ID anywhere. It’s like he wanted to make sure that no one could find out who he is.”

  Out of habit, Jennifer stuck the earpieces of her stethoscope in and listened to the unknown victim’s heart. “Weak. Thready. Irregular.” She pulled out the earpieces. “He’s not going to last that long, guys.”

  Wally rattled off the vitals. Sure enough, BP was low and falling. Breathing was irregular and distressed. He was bleeding internally, and was hemorrhaging in his brain, given the presence of blood in his ear canals.

  “If we had some ice, we could slow the bleeding, and the swelling in his brain,” she told them. “But there’s nowhere nearby that has ice. At least, not enough to chill him down.”

  “There’s an ice machine in the gas station,” Steve volunteered.

  “Just a shell, Stev
e. When the station closed, they took the machine with them.” She checked the man’s pupils. They were constricted and non-responsive. “Grand Island doesn’t have an airborne trauma team, I don’t think. Shouldn’t you have called Lincoln, or the U. Neb. Medical Center in Omaha? They could get a trauma team here by heli-evac. At least they could treat him while in transit.”

  “We thought of that, Jenn. Too far. Even with the new helicopter in Lincoln, it would take over 90 minutes to get here, and another 90 minutes to get back.” Wally wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s St. Francis or nothing.”

  Jennifer looked at the man, stretched out and in obvious distress. “He didn’t notice the blind switchback in time?” she asked.

  “Long trail of skidmarks right up to the edge,” Steve answered. “Flew off, still doing a decent clip. One of the trees caught the car. We practically had to disassemble it to get him out. I’m surprised he survived.”

  “The way he’s bleeding internally, he won’t be surviving much longer. We don’t have any packs of Type O blood left. Just a couple bags of IV saline, which are probably pushing their expiry date. Why did you bring him in here? Why not keep him in the ambulance until the chopper arrives?”

  “Force of habit,” Wally said. “If you guys had been properly supplied, we could have hung a pack to try and compensate for his blood loss.”

  “Or if we still had a doctor,” Jennifer added. “Find the bleeder and close it up. Give him a fighting chance.”

  The rescue truck stopped out on Twin Elm in front of the clinic. Steve went to talk to the crew. After checking his watch, Wally said, “It’s still about 30 minutes away. I don’t think that he has that long.”

  “I can’t just stand here and watch him die. I’ve got to do something.” Wally looked at her. “There’s one last sterile surgical pack in storage. I could go in and suture the bleeder. At least he’d have a chance.”

  Wally was shocked. “You can’t, Jenny. You’re not qualified. You’re not licensed or certified to perform any sort of surgical procedure. Are you nuts?”