Turning Point

by Lisanne Norman

  Garras stuck his head inside the hatch, looking for Carrie. “Have your people any deep-space transmitters in orbit?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, walking over to the opening. “We never developed ... what did you call it? Hyperspace relay?”

  “Carrie,” Skai called insistently, guessing that something was seriously wrong. “What are you talking about? What’s happened?” He moved quickly to the hatch and leaned forward, grasping her by the arm. “Stop talking in that outlandish language and speak sense, for God’s sake!”

  “Their satellite’s not functioning,” she replied distractedly.

  “In English, Carrie,” he said, shaking her. “As the only military representative here, I outrank you and expect to be kept informed.”

  A sudden sharp pain made him yelp and look down as Carrie repeated herself in English. He saw a dark-furred Sholan hand on his wrist and attempted to shake it off. Five sharp claws held him in a rigid grip. Droplets of blood were beginning to well from under the claw tips.

  “Don’t,” said Kusac, his teeth bared in cold anger. “She is not yours to touch.”

  Skai flinched. “She isn’t yours either,” he retorted.

  “Both of you stop it,” said Carrie, batting Kusac’s hand away from Skai. “I don’t belong to either of you! I’m not a piece of property to be argued over like this.”

  “Of course you have free choice,” murmured Kusac. “I did not mean to imply you hadn’t.”

  “Just so you both remember it,” she said, somewhat mollified. “And, Kusac, just what are you doing up?” she asked, turning round to him.

  “I woke and needed to stretch,” he said urbanely.

  Carrie made a small noise of disbelief.

  Vanna came up behind them.

  “Kusac, before you move around too much, I want to change that dressing,” she said, handing him a protein drink.

  He hesitated.

  I’m fine, sent Carrie. You worry too much.

  I care, he replied, touching her face lightly with his fingertips before following Vanna.

  Carrie turned back to Skai. “Have the Valtegans any communication satellites in orbit?” she asked Skai.

  “No,” he replied, thrusting his anger aside for later as he rubbed the back of his wrist. “Their deep-space transmitter is in the base at the other side of the swamp, which is why we stake it out. We’re hoping for a chance to get in and use it. You wouldn’t believe how tight their security is.”

  “Could we gain entry to their transmitter from here through their local communications?” asked Garras.

  “If we knew their access codes,” replied Guynor.

  “We have a panoramic receiver, so it should be possible to work out the radio frequencies given enough time, but the access codes will take longer,” said Mito.

  “How long?” asked Carrie.

  Mito shrugged. “Depends how frequently they communicate with the base and how predictable their codes are.”

  “Couldn’t you link into a Valtegan at the base and get the necessary information?” Garras asked Carrie. “We’ve got to get our message out as quickly as possible before the Valtegans manage to read our computer memory crystal.”

  “The Valtegans are too far away for us to do that,” replied Carrie. “Is it likely that they can read it?”

  “With a lack of any knowledge of their tech level I have to assume the worst,” said Garras. “Go ahead,” he said to Mito. “Monitoring the base seems the most viable course of action.”

  “I’ll need help, though,” she said. “I don’t speak Valtegan.”

  “Then we have got a problem,” said Skai, “because none of us know more than a few words, certainly none of their technical language. Unless, Carrie?...”

  She shook her head. “I probably know less than you, and as I said before, there aren’t any Valtegans near enough for me to contact.”

  Her remarks were met with silence.

  “It looks like we’re going to have to get into that base,” said Garras at last.

  “How? We’ve been sitting there watching them for about eight years! If we can’t get in, how the hell can you?” exclaimed Skai.

  “I could get in easily,” said Carrie.

  “What did you say?” demanded Skai, rounding angrily on her.

  “I said I could get in easily, and I can.”

  “What’re you going to do? Just walk in the front gate?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Of course. Getting me in isn’t the problem, it’s what to do next,” she said.

  “Explain,” said Garras, his ears pricked hard in her direction.

  “Elise told me that occasionally the base officials will send for one of the women from Geshader. I just convince them that I’ve been sent for, which is easy.”

  “You’re not going in alone,” growled Kusac from within the pod.

  “Too right,” echoed Skai. “I’m going in, too.”

  “I couldn’t take a Terran male with me,” she replied. “There’s no way they’d let you in, and having seen you, they would probably keep you for questioning.”

  “You’re not going alone,” repeated Kusac, coming back to the hatch despite Vanna’s protests.

  She followed him, getting him to squat down while she replaced the dressing on his shoulder.

  “We need Mito or Guynor to go in, not you, Carrie,” said Garras. “You don’t have the knowledge to help us.”

  “No, but once inside, I’m close enough to the Valtegans to read them and get their knowledge, which Mito and Guynor can’t do.”

  “Do these women from Geshader arrive alone?” asked Kusac.

  “No, they are usually taken there by groundcar,” replied Carrie, looking puzzled.

  “I have an idea,” he said slowly. “I wonder if between us we could make the Valtegans think they are looking at one of their own soldiers escorting a woman. That way you have some protection, and there would be two of us to handle anything Mito says we need to do.”

  “But how?...”

  Carrie was cut short by Mito.

  “If you can do that, then, yes! Telepathically, we can give you the information you need to access the transmitter and send our signal.”

  “It could work,” admitted Guynor grudgingly, “but we need to interface into the Valtegan computers. They’re probably incompatible with ours.”

  “What do you mean by interface?” asked Skai.

  “Basically, our computers will probably run at a different speed than the Valtegans’. Also the computer language we use won’t be understood by their machine so I need to build a translator to allow our computer to talk to theirs, and vice versa,” explained Guynor.

  “So this translator is your interface?” questioned Skai.

  “Exactly, but the next problem is to get hold of some Valtegan electronic equipment so that our interface can be connected to it without damage to either system.”

  “What kind of Valtegan hardware do you need?” continued Skai. “Maybe we have something that would do.”

  “We need some communications device. Not a personal communicator, but one from a building or a vehicle,” said Mito.

  “We have a groundcar. Would that be any use?”

  Mito’s ears pricked up. “That would be ideal! What state is it in?”

  “Pretty good. Last time I saw it, about a fortnight ago, they had repaired most of the damage caused by our attack. I know the radio is all right because they were using it to monitor Valtegan transmissions, trying to work out more of the language.”

  “Where is it? When can I get it? It sounds ideal for our purposes!”

  “At our base just south of here, near the foot of the hills.”

  “It might as well be at Hillfort!” said Carrie bitterly. “How are we going to get word to them in time?”

  “Actually, that is the least of our problems,” said Skai smugly. “I never told you, but I have a wrist communicator and can get in touch with the base anytime.”

&
nbsp; Carrie favored him with a look of dislike. “I knew we couldn’t completely trust you,” she said.

  “Oh, come on now! You kidnap me in the middle of the forest, introduce me to a new species of Aliens, and you expect me to give away my one ace? Be realistic, girl. Anyway, it’s going to be our biggest asset now.”

  “Certainly an asset,” interrupted Garras smoothly, “but perhaps not our biggest. We still have to ascertain if Carrie and Kusac can work their disguise. Without them, we cannot reach the transmitter inside the base.”

  “Have you got any communications operators and technicians among your people?” interrupted Mito.

  “Sure. We’ve got most of the crew of the Eureka left.”

  “Captain, we must contact them. There are things I need, tools this pod doesn’t provide. I must talk to them now,” said Mito urgently.

  “No!” exclaimed Guynor angrily, stepping forward. “Captain ...”

  “Enough,” said Garras, his voice deceptively mild. “Now we have no option but to trust the Terrans. Unless you are suggesting that the seven of us mount an armed raid on the base with nothing more than these few side arms?”

  “There are explosives and rifles in the pod,” replied Guynor stiffly.

  “We are a reconnaissance unit, not a combat group. We are also vastly outnumbered and outclassed. Our strength lies in stealth, not force. I am glad to hear we have extra munitions at our disposal. They will be useful to the Terrans as a backup in the event of trouble—if they will aid us. They have the military and strategic knowledge, we, the technical.

  “Skai, contact your base and let me talk to your Commanding Officer,” ordered Garras.

  “I think it would be better if ...” began Skai, stumbling to a halt as he saw the Sholan Captain’s ears flatten and his eyes narrow.

  “Yes, sir,” he said hurriedly, cursing inwardly at fate for robbing him of his chance to appear in charge of the situation.

  Carrie looked at him curiously as he keyed his call signal into his wrist communicator.

  “I don’t know why you are worrying,” she said. “You did the job we asked you to do excellently. You’re bound to get praise for that. Why do you need more?”

  Skai gave Carrie a shocked glance before the tiny voice on his comm unit claimed his attention.

  “Davies, is that you?” he asked.

  “Identify,” the voice repeated.

  “Don’t be stupid, you know it’s Skai!”

  “Password,” it insisted pedantically. “And where the hell have you been the past four days? Screwing your way round Seaport, I’ve no doubt!”

  Skai flushed. “Come on, Davies,” he muttered, “I’ve got company.”

  “I’ll just bet you have! Password.”

  “Bramble, you son of a bitch, and I hope you’ve stepped on some eggs this week!”

  “Identity verified,” replied Davies smugly. “Captain Skinner will enjoy hearing where you’ve been. I hope the excuse is a good one this time.”

  Skai began to grin. “Oh, it is. Believe me, it is. Put me through, will you? I’ll need a secure line.”

  “Just for an excuse? Come on, what are you up to?”

  “Patch me through, Davies,” ordered Skai, feeling the situation come back under his control again. “Once Skinner hears what I have to say, he won’t thank you for delaying me.”

  “I’ll make it my business to find out what you’re playing at, Skai,” warned Davies.

  “Skinner here,” interrupted a crisp voice. “When you’ve quite finished your banter, I’ll have that secure line, Davies.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What have you got to report that requires security status?” asked the Captain.

  “I’ve located the Aliens who crashed two months ago,” replied Skai.

  There was a short silence. “Repeat what you just said,” ordered Skinner.

  “I found the Aliens.”

  “You found?” murmured Carrie.

  “Who else is with you?” demanded the Captain.

  “Carrie Hamilton,” replied Skai, giving the girl a sidelong glance. “Actually, she found them.”

  “I thought she’d end up with us. Too much spirit in that one to be a farmer’s wife.”

  “Captain,” urged Skai, “the Aliens. I’ve got them here with us. They want to talk to you. They can help us.”

  “Ah, the Aliens.”

  “Here, give the damned thing to me,” said Carrie, grabbing hold of his wrist. “Captain, I know it’s difficult to accept, but believe me, we have here the five surviving members of the craft that the Valtegans shot down. They are called Sholans, and they have a battle cruiser out in deep space. They will help us, but their transmitter is out of action and they need our assistance to get a message through.”

  “What assistance can we give them?” asked the Captain, recovering his equilibrium again.

  “Skai says you have a Valtegan groundcar. They need it to make some kind of interface into the Valtegan communications system.”

  “We have a groundcar, and it’s working after a fashion,” admitted Skinner, “but the only practical way to get it to you is to fly it, and it’s not capable of doing that at present.”

  “Give me the wrist comm,” ordered Garras, pushing forward and holding out his hand. “I’ll talk to him and find out what the delay is.”

  Mito murmured briefly to him in Sholan as Skai took off the device and handed it over.

  He nodded.

  “Who’s that?” asked Skinner sharply.

  “Captain Garras of the Sholan scout craft Sirroki, Captain Skinner,” he answered. “We need that Valtegan craft to be able to contact our Mothership. Once we have alerted the Khalossa to our mutual predicament, it will be in orbit around Keiss within days.

  “It has the firepower, and the incentive to rid this planet of the Valtegans. We have also suffered at their hands.

  “As for your ship, with the Valtegans gone there will be no need to stop it from landing on Keiss.

  “We don’t have time for the diplomatic niceties, I’m afraid. Let’s leave that to our politicians. You and I are men of action, and action is what is needed right now. Can we cooperate?”

  There was a slight hesitation. “Certainly. We’ll get that craft flying somehow. Meanwhile, how else can we help you?”

  “Mito, tell the Captain your requirements,” ordered Garras, handing the comm to her.

  “I need trained tech personnel and their equipment. Have you got the following items or equivalents?” she asked, reeling off a list of some half a dozen tools.

  “I’ll get my people on it right away. Stay in communication and I’ll put you through to our expert in that field. I’ve got a fix on your location so we’ll have no difficulty reaching you. Is there anything else?”

  Garras leaned over and spoke. “Put as many heavily armed men in the craft as you can. Two of your people will have to break into the base here to patch our device into the Valtegan transmitter, and I want the means to rescue them if necessary.”

  “Break into the base?” Skinner echoed in disbelief, briefly forgetting diplomacy. “Are you mad? Have you any idea what you’re up against?”

  “Yes, Captain Skinner, I have,” said Garras. “We don’t intend to break in by force. I presume you will be coming with your men; I will brief you when we have made our final plans.”

  There was a short silence. “All our personnel are trained fighters,” said Skinner. “By the way, I must compliment you on your grasp of our language.”

  “We have the benefit of an excellent team of Telepaths. The credit is theirs, they imprinted us with your language.”

  There was another pause. “That’s a useful technique. I wish we had those methods at our disposal. We must talk about it sometime.”

  “Certainly. As for your people not having those skills, the girl Carrie is half of our team. Along with Kusac, our Telepath, they make the most gifted pair I’ve come across in many years. Don’t you mak
e use of this Talent?”

  “I’m afraid that as far as we humans are concerned, it’s regarded as a fringe phenomenon and highly unreliable.”

  “I see there are a few differences in our outlook,” said Garras. “Still, it would be surprising if there were not. Telepaths are a valuable resource to any civilization. This is a matter that our diplomats will doubtless discuss at length later.” Garras’ eyes flicked briefly over to Carrie and Kusac.

  “Doubtless,” replied Skinner. “Tell Carrie that her brother arrived here today. He intends to join us. Has she any messages for him or her father?”

  “Tell them I’m safe and well, but I won’t return,” she said, leaning over the comm.

  “There’s no reason for you to go back, my dear. Richard has given us some idea of your problems. It looks like you could have an interesting future ahead of you with us.”

  “No, I mean I’m not returning ...” she started, breaking off as Garras caught her by the arm. He shook his head slowly, warning her to silence.

  “We’ll sort something out, never fear,” reassured Skinner.

  “Captain, I’m afraid we cannot accommodate any more personnel in our life pod. It’s intended as emergency accommodation only for a normal reconnaissance crew of six. We number seven. Also our food supplies are limited. I am sorry to be so inhospitable ...”

  “That won’t be a problem, Captain Garras. We can sleep in the groundcar and I’ll make sure we bring plenty of food.”

  “Thank you. My First Officer may be able to help your mechanics get the groundcar flying.”

  “Any help would certainly be most welcome,” replied Skinner. “I’ll hand over to my senior technician for the moment.”

  Carrie felt a tap on her shoulder and turned round to find Vanna beckoning Kusac and her aside. She moved away from the hatch and back toward the central pillar.

  “I think they are going to talk what you call ‘shop’ for the moment. Why don’t we go and organize the food situation? If you’re like me all this technical jargon is another language, one I don’t understand,” she said once they were out of earshot.

  “Too true,” murmured Kusac, gently trying out his shoulder and wincing immediately.