Found Girl

by Pauline Baird Jones

  My people will have questions.

  She could almost feel them waiting to ask their questions. She rested a palm on the control panel, not sure it would work until it did, bringing up the view outside the ship. Several people milled around, their purpose not clear. Their bright yellow clothing looked bulky and uncomfortable. They carried weapons and watched her ship warily. The emotion that came through the strongest from all of them was uncertainty.

  You are unknown to them.

  I have always been unknown.

  Even to herself. She set the pack on the arm rest, rose, and spread her fingers on a strip of bare wall, pushing so that her palm fully connected with the cold metal. It was smooth and cool, like the pack she’d set aside. For just a second it seemed as if sparks of light flickered under the skin. She blinked, but if they’d been there, they were gone. She flexed the fingers, turned her hand over, then looked at the back again.

  Nothing. She had banged her head. The last time she’d done that, stars had appeared before her eyes. She touched the metal once more, then looked up, her gaze tracking across the metal ceiling. She turned so she could take in the bridge. It was an odd feeling to be surrounded by metal, both on this ship and by the other one out there, after a life lived so completely on the ground.

  She breathed in, then slowly exhaled to calm herself. Only then could she feel a faint vibration from the larger ship’s engines throbbing against her palm. Her mind separated the sound into separate engines, learning their signature tones before she let her hand drop away. What purpose did it serve to learn the engines? They would not be the ones asking questions.

  The space outside this ship was quite large, but there must be much more to see. A smaller ship rested off to one side. Behind it were several others in berths along the other side. Coop’s, she wondered? It was positioned to have been the ship that towed them here. Directly ahead was an opening, dark with the faint glow of stars beyond it. A force field must separate in from out. How odd she knew that. As always, she knew more than she should, yet still not quite enough.

  She turned around to face the Companion once more.

  “Why?” she spoke aloud since they were alone. She felt amusement from him.

  That is a child’s question.

  I feel young… She frowned. And also old. She’d always felt different, separate from the others on Bosakli, but that feeling had tripled since boarding this ship. Why? But she didn’t give voice to the thought this time.

  My people will have questions.

  Arian returned to her seat. She had to focus on what was in front of her. There was some relief in that thought. Questions led to answers—answers she might not like giving. Answers they might not like receiving. She glanced at the Companion.

  I have questions, too.

  He was the Companion, but she was not sure what that meant. She waited, but he did not respond to this thought. His eyes were solemn pools of knowing, or so they seemed to her.

  “Do you have answers, Companion?” When he didn’t respond, she looked at him.

  What is it that you wish to know?

  “Who am I? Who—” She stopped because they both knew she wasn’t ready to hear the answer to that question.

  * * *

  There was a stir outside. Arian made herself relax and then slowly rose to face the hatch opening. Metal vibrated as more than one set of feet tramped aboard. Coop was the first one to enter. The relief she felt at the sight of him shocked her. Her gaze wanted to cling to his, but after giving her a brief, reassuring grin, he moved aside, tucking himself against a control panel to the left of the opening.

  His elbow came close to an environmental control section, but she decided it wouldn’t matter if he shut off the air when the hatch was open.

  An older man entered next. He was bluff and determined with a detached, all-seeing gaze. She liked the confidence he exuded and the straightness of his back. He occupied space without overpowering it, but she sensed he could, had he wanted to. The scent he brought with him was different from the doc’s and Coop’s, but not unpleasing. It awakened an echo of some distant memory…

  Could it be her father? She had no memory of father or mother, though she must have had both at one time.

  Behind him was a thin, lanky man who had a wide open face. Did it not exhaust him to have all he felt on view?

  Because hiding who you are is so relaxing.

  Warmth tinged her cheeks, but she did not respond to this.

  Of necessity, the two newcomers needed to stand close to each other. Neither seemed thrilled by this. Arian bit back words of apology. These were not guests she had invited into her space. These were the people with questions.

  Her chin lifted, she studied both men once more and decided the older man was the one in charge. He didn’t crowd the other man physically, and yet, the younger one huddled under the angled area as if to get as far away as he could, his head bent uncomfortably to one side. Their clothing was different. The older man wore clothing similar to Coop’s. A uniform, she decided. The younger man’s dark clothing was mostly plain, though there was a shiny strip of colored cloth that circled his neck and hung down the front of his chest.

  Arian turned her attention back to the dominant male and felt a jolt of shock when their gazes connected. His gaze bored in, searching for something. She lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely, though it was not easy. She sensed it was important that she hold her ground through this first assessment.

  When the intensity of the look decreased, Arian dipped her chin in greeting, then looked at Coop, letting her arched brow act as the question she did not know to ask.

  “Colonel,” Coop broke the silence, “this is Arian Teraz. Arian, this is Colonel Boyette. He is in charge of our ship, the Boyington. And this is Dr. Adam Derwent, head of our First Contact team.”

  “First contact?”

  “With al—” Coop started to explain, but the first contact doctor cut him off.

  “With new peoples.”

  Aliens. The Companion sounded amused.

  They do not seem as alien as you did at first sight. She let herself process the realization that they had a team to meet aliens. Did they hope to meet many different peoples? Perhaps other species?

  Arian placed her fisted hand against her heart, with the smallest finger outward, dipped her chin once more, offering the next level of greeting, then lowered her hand to her side. After a moment’s hesitation, the new doctor mirrored her greeting. It rather amused her and confirmed her sense that he was of lesser importance. The Colonel didn’t mimic anything. He nodded sharply, as if impatient to get past the formalities.

  Derwent is a diplomat.

  She’d never had dealings with the designation, but the Companion provided her with insight beyond what her eyes and senses told her. The explanation did not matter, except it helped for her to know that it was his job to smooth their first interaction. She looked at the Colonel. Could anyone smooth this man?

  “You are welcome,” she said, not entirely truthfully and was sure this Colonel knew it.

  He looked almost amused, then glanced at the Companion and arched his brows.

  A slight flush rose in her cheeks. “This is the Companion, Colonel Boyette,” Arian said.

  “The—” He stopped a shade of discomfort in his expression.

  “He’s a Draze Dragon,” Coop put in, though Arian had a sense that this was not what the Colonel had been about to say.

  They think I am a lizard.

  This troubles him?

  I suspect he is concerned by the telepathic link I have established with Banshee. And that I can communicate at all.

  It was disconcerting when one was not used to it, she could have told the Companion, but she suspected he knew the telepathy was not the only disconcerting thing about him.

  “Are you Draze as well?” the Colonel asked her.

  Why would he assume this, she wondered. “No.”

  There was a pause as if th
ey wanted more from her, but what?

  They wonder if you are from this system.

  Oh. It felt strange to answer a question they hadn’t asked, but if it would help, “I am not from this system.” Their gazes moved to her Companion. “Neither is my Companion.”

  She could not see that the additional information helped ease the uncomfortable silence that reformed around her words.

  You should thank them for assisting you.

  It seemed good counsel, so she did, finishing with another formal nod of her head.

  “We are pleased we could assist you,” the diplomat doctor said, his expression more worried than pleased.

  Into another uncomfortable pause, the Colonel spoke. “The doc said you seemed to be all right, other than the bump on your head?”

  “Yes.” She resisted the urge to touch the sore spot, which, she realized now, was not as painful as it had been. Apparently, the cold thing had helped.

  His gaze scanned the space. “And your ship? How is it?”

  Your ship, he’d said. Arian felt pleasure at those words. Almost it seemed the ship twitched in disagreement.

  “There are some damaged systems. I will need time to repair them.” A bold assertion, she thought with an inner jeer.

  “There’s no rush—” the diplomat doctor began, but Coop interrupted him.

  “Maybe we can help.” His grin was genial, but the look he cast around was…interested.

  Arian was not troubled by his interest in a ship so much smaller than theirs. It was different and therefore worthy of the attention of a fellow…pilot. I am a pilot. She half expected the Companion to dispute this. He did not, and even his silence lacked dissent. Her back was straight, almost as straight as Coop and his Colonel, but she found she could straighten if further. She met this Colonel’s gaze as directly as she could. Despite this, she felt doubt they could help. Neither of them looked to be a mechanic or an engineer.

  “Do you think so?” she asked.

  “We can try,” he said, with another grin.

  “And we’d like to get to know you, your people…possibly share information about this system, or about where you come from,” the diplomat doctor put in with a look that was both pleading and minatory toward the two other men.

  Why would a healer diplomat be interested in such things?

  He is a different kind of doctor, the Companion told her. A man of learning, of ideas, not healing.

  This she understood, as well. She also longed to know more, to understand. Perhaps with understanding, she’d not feel so overwhelmed, so wearied by the unfettered emotions of these people. It did not help that she was tired and hungry. But it was uncivil to eat in front of, or with, guests. She felt guilty that she’d forgotten this basic hospitable offer of sustenance.

  “I would like this as well,” she said. “I regret the lack of seating…”

  “She’s right,” the Colonel said. “Captain, get something set up in the bay, something private, where we can all sit down,” he added, before turning back to Arian.

  Coop disappeared back down the passage leaving an awkward silence behind.

  “I am able to offer you sustenance,” she said hesitantly.

  The Colonel did not look grateful. The diplomat looked nervous, but he said, after clearing this throat, “Sustenance…that’s very kind…”

  Grateful for something to do, Arian edged past them to the sustenance station and activated it. After a few seconds, a panel slid up revealing two small cakes. Arian lifted the dish and extended it toward the two men. Her mouth watered, and she rested a hand on the wall as weakness wavered through her.

  Both men looked dubious, though they tried to conceal it from her. It seemed wise, rather than discourteous, to be wary in the face of the unknown. She was impressed when each man took one of the cakes and studied it for several seconds.

  “It is quite pleasing,” she reassured them.

  The Colonel took a small bite, his eyes widened, and he tossed it all in, chewed with enthusiasm and swallowed before he said, “That is very good.”

  With this stamp of approval, the doctor ate his. They both glanced at the sustenance station with looks of hope.

  “It is not advised to eat more than one without waiting to see how it affects you. It is very concentrated for travel through space.” Arian had suffered a most painful episode from eating three of them, so she spoke with conviction.

  “Thanks for the warning.” The Colonel looked almost friendly as he glanced around again. “While we’re waiting for the Captain, could you give us the dollar tour?”

  Her brows lifted despite her best efforts at controlling this telltale sign of weakness. “Dollar tour?”

  “Would it be possible for you to show us this ship?” the doctor/diplomat explained.

  What else did they desire to see? Did they sense…

  “As space explorers, we are interested in technology that is different from ours,” the Colonel said, easily.

  As if he needed to ease the sudden divide, the doctor asked, “Do you have quarters? Where do you sleep?” A tinge of red crept into his cheeks as he added, “And do…other things?”

  Other things?

  He is curious about the sanitation arrangements. Once again there was amusement from the Companion.

  Why would that embarrass him, she wondered, moving past them to activate another panel. “The pilot’s sanitation needs are accommodated here,” she said. She pressed a button, and a sanitation module came out. Both men seemed to flinch back. She turned back to find them looking…discomfited. Interesting. “The command position reclines for sleep.”

  They both studied the chair with a certain amount of sympathy. She could attest that it was not terribly comfortable.

  “You’ll need to repair those straps,” the Colonel said, sounding less formal as he picked up an end and examined it. “Do you know why it failed?”

  She picked up the other end. “I do not think they were tested for anomaly transit.” The words were a bit rueful.

  “Your ship sustained a fair bit of external damage,” the Colonel said, something in his tone brought her gaze back to his. “Not all of it looks like meteor strikes, though.” His smile was easy, friendly almost if she hadn’t been looking into the cool eyes.

  Her insides tightened, but she lifted one brow with outward calm.

  “Looks a lot like weapons fire to me.”

  “Not all systems are…friendly. I stumbled across some…pirates…” the unfamiliar word provided by the Companion seemed to satisfy them and removed the necessity for explaining the pirates had not been the only ships pursuing them. “I was…outgunned…so when the anomaly appeared, I…took the opportunity to exit the space.” It had the virtue of being the truth. Tell as much truth as you can, was a maxim learned early. This man, he would know truth when he heard it, she was sure.

  His brows shot up. “You pointed this into a wormhole full of meteorites?”

  Did wormhole mean the same as an anomaly? Arian reviewed her words and his, then nodded. “Yes.”

  He made a move that was almost a twitch, but more controlled. “Gutsy move.”

  Arian was not quite sure how to respond to this, so she remained silent, her gaze straying to the restraint, considering how to fix it. She would need it again. Strange how the idea of leaving did not make her as happy as it should have.

  The Colonel lifted the Companion’s strap, almost absently, then his gaze sharpened. “Your dragon has better restraints.”

  “Yes.” She could tell he would not be satisfied with this. There was more than just truth at stake now. He was testing her somehow. “For longer transits, the pilot is supposed to cold sleep.”

  “Cold sleep?” The Colonel’s tone was sharp. “You mean, cryo-sleep?” He looked around as if he expected to see the pod pop out of the wall like the sanitation facility.

  She had to have the Companion translate this for her. She nodded, her wary hidden but very much there. Why does th
is interest him? Because it did. She could see it, though he tried to hide it.

  “Does it work? Why didn’t you use it?”

  She stared at him, but even the Companion could not help with this question. So she told him the truth.

  “I wanted to see where I was going.”

  His head jerked back slightly, then, to her shock, he grinned.

  The Colonel opened his mouth, but before he could ask or speak, Coop returned.

  “I’ve got us set up in the Master Sergeant’s office.” He looked at Arian. “He takes care of maintenance on our birds, our ships. It’s not that much bigger than this, but it does have chairs.”

  From this, Arian processed one main point, possibly more, but definitely one thing. They did not wish to let her roam around their ship. A lack of trust was not unknown to her. She did not think she had trusted anyone in the whole of her life. Or been trusted by anyone, she had to admit, at least to herself. Which made it odd that the one thing she wanted to do was trust these people. And be trusted by them.

  On this uncomfortable thought, she followed them off her ship.

  * * *

  Pappy strode toward the small office, scattering the hazmat team, and Derwent’s first contact team, with a look. Derwent stayed beside Arian, so Coop took her other side, steering her in the Old Man’s wake. She looked around her with what Coop assumed was her version of curiosity. Gal had a butt load of self-control. Derwent could take lessons from her. He couldn’t keep the shock and awe off his face. He wasn’t the only one giving their second, in-system alien a stare, though. Everyone left in the bay noted, with varying degrees of interest and maybe a bit of disappointment, how human she looked. The dragon had changed the expectations. As her gaze passed over them, they either looked away or gave her a respectful salute in greeting. She offered a somber nod in return.

  As they passed his Dauntless, she stopped to study it with a bit more curiosity showing in her eyes.