A human groan interrupted her “conversation.” Mahree turned to see that Dhurrrkk’ was sitting up, holding Rob’s hands, and that the doctor was stirring. “Excuse me a moment, please, Blanket,” she said. “I must check on my friend. I will return.”
Affirmation.
Mahree hastily crawled over to put a hand on Dhurrrkk’’s shoulder. “FriendDhurrrkk’,” she said. “How do you feel?”
The Simiu put a hand on his forehead. “There is pain here,” he said. “But otherwise I am fine.”
“Just promise me you’ll take it easy for a while. You were pretty far gone.”
“I promise, FriendMahree.” The Simiu’s violet eyes were full of emotion. Slowly, minus his customary ease and grace, he reached over to grasp her hand. “You gave me your own breath, so that I could live,” he said, switching to her own language. “I will be forever grateful, my friend. We are honor-bound, you and I. For as long as I may live, your honor and your life will be as important to me as my own.”
“Dhurrrkk’…” Mahree tried to think of something to say, but words failed her. Instead, she gripped his six-fingered hand hard, nodding.
He motioned to Rob. “Honored HealerGable is awakening.” Mahree hastily turned around, to find the doctor lying there with his eyes open. “Hi,” she said softly, bending over him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m breathing,” he whispered, his eyes filled with profound bewilderment. “Why am I still alive?”
“Because we’ve found the source of the oxygen emissions, Rob,” she told him. “And a lot more besides.”
“Huh? You located one of the O2 sources?”
“Yes,” she said, seeing that he was still weak and disoriented. The rest of her news could wait.
He put out a hand. “Are you sure you’re really here?” he mumbled uncertainly. “I’m not hallucinating?”
For an answer, Mahree took his gloved hand, unsealed it, pulled off the covering, then grasped his bare fingers tightly. “I’m really here,” she said. “Feel.”
“Feels good,” he mumbled, smiling. “Squeeze tight.” After a moment, he shakily sat up, then looked at the Simiu. “Honored Dhurrrkk’, I’m glad to see that you’re all right.”
The alien made the formal greeting gesture of his people. “Honored HealerGable,” he said in English, with a twinkle, “I’m pleased to observe the same about you.”
The doctor shook his head, confusion filling his eyes. “But I don’t understand how we got here—wherever we are. I was out of air. I must’ve passed out.” He glanced down at his side.
“Waitaminit! This says I’ve got twelve minutes left on this pack.” He looked back up, glaring at Mahree. “You switched breathing packs, didn’t you? Gave me the last of your air?”
“It was the least I could do, after you lied to me,” she said acerbically. “One dirty trick deserves another.” She returned his glare with interest. “And if you dare to tell me that it was for my own good, you’re going to find yourself stretched out on these damned moss-plants again.”
“I knew you’d be pissed,” he mumbled, obviously deeply touched by his discovery of the switched breathing pack. “But I didn’t figure I’d live to hear about it. Forgive me?”
Rob sounded so uncharacteristically meek that Mahree had to laugh. “Let’s call it even.”
The doctor glanced around him, and his eyes widened as he recognized their location. “Hey, this is the same place as we left Dhurrrkk’.” He scratched his head. “Now, let me get this straight. We came back here to get Dhurrrkk’, only this time there was oxygen in this hollow? But how?”
“Thank them,” Mahree said, pointing to the blanket-creatures. “They’re the things that have been emitting the O2.”
“Them? The fungi?” He blinked. “That’s impossible. Crazy. They can’t even photosynthesize.”
“You ain’t seen crazy, yet. Brace yourself, Rob. They’re sentient. We’ve just made a First Contact.”
He stared at her in silence, no expression on his face. “Sentient,” he repeated, finally.
“They are,” Mahree insisted. “They knew we needed oxygen, so they convinced me to take off my helmet, so I could breathe. And when I’d taken it off, this one”—she pointed to the closest blanket-creature—“crawled over just so it could give me extra O2 when I was giving Dhurrrkk’ artificial respiration.”
He hesitated. “Uhhhhh… that’s hard to believe,” he said, finally, using a carefully neutral tone. “Are you sure?”
“Honored Mahree is correct,” Dhurrrkk’ interjected, in English. “Before I lost my awareness of my surroundings, I was conscious of something contacting my mind, something that touched and questioned with intelligent purpose. It instructed me to take off my helmet, but I was unable to comply.”
“That’s because it was stuck,” she told him.
Rob stared at both of them. Then he looked down at the blanket. “You’re telling me this thing is sentient,” he said, in a this-can’t-be-happening-to-me tone of voice. “This thing”—he pointed—“this phosphorescent patch of fungus?”
“It’s not a thing, it’s a person, Rob. Mind your manners,” Mahree admonished. “Watch, I’ll prove it.”
Turning back to “her” blanket, Mahree ran through the same demonstration that she had earlier. Finally, she said to the being, “This is my friend, Robert Gable—Rob, as he’s called. This is what he looks like.” She glanced at the doctor’s face. “And this is my friend Honored Dhurrrkk’.” She looked at the Simiu. “Now, if you don’t mind, Blanket, I’d like you to move over and stop in front of Rob, so he’ll know for sure that you can understand me.”
With surprising speed, the alien creature crawled unhesitatingly over to Rob, stopped, then raised one edge into the air and waved at him.
The doctor paled as he stared at the being, eyes wide, then suddenly he bent forward until his forehead rested on the moss-plants before him.
“Good grief, Rob,” Mahree exclaimed, “you don’t have to pray to it! Just say ‘hello’!”
He drew several long breaths. “I’m not praying, you idiot,” he said crossly in a muffled voice. “If I hadn’t gotten my head down, I would’ve fainted. Give me a break, sweetheart. It’s been a long, hard day.”
After a minute Rob sat back up, his color much improved. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered softly, eyeing the fungus-being. He cleared his throat. “How do you do, uh, Blanket? It’s a real pleasure.”
Mahree concentrated, and received a clear sense of inquiry. “It’s telepathic—or something—” she said. “Right now, it wants to know about us. How we got here.”
“It is asking me the same thing,” Dhurrrkk’ said.
Trying to be as clear and simple as she could, Mahree thought slowly, deliberately, of how they had come to this world, aboard Rosinante, and why. She tried to make her images of the ship as vivid as possible, knowing instinctively that the creature before her could have no concept of technology or artificial constructions.
Finally, she turned to Dhurrrkk’. “Did you tell it?”
“Yes,” he said. “As clearly as I could. Communication with the being is growing easier for me, the more I do it.”
Mahree felt a prickle of envy. “It’s still pretty hard for me,” she admitted.
Rob was watching them. “I can feel it now, too,” he said. “A sense of inquiry, and curiosity, right?” When they nodded, he continued, “But it’s sure nothing like what Great-Aunt Louise used to do. She spoke in words, except they were silent.”
“Maybe Blanket can learn words, eventually,” Mahree said. “At first it just communicated faint impressions. Now they’re getting stronger.”
“It would like to help us,” Dhurrrkk’ announced suddenly.
“It already has helped us,” Rob said. “Though I have to admit that it might have been kinder if it hadn’t interfered when we passed out. Spending the rest of my life here in this hollow, while we slowly die of thirst, isn’t a very appealing
prospect.”
Dhurrrkk’ said, “It is giving me images, now. It thinks it knows a way.”
Mahree felt an absurd sense of abandonment as she realized that “her” blanket was now communicating most effectively with the Simiu. Don’t be stupid, she thought sternly. It obviously has discovered that a Simiu brain is easier for it to reach.
She and Rob waited as the Simiu sat there, an abstracted expression on his face. Finally, he raised his violet eyes to theirs. “I have learned something about these beings. Each of these creatures is very, very old, and each is intelligent. Normally, they are not interested in much outside of pursuing their own obscure musings, mental games, and philosophical reflections. However, the one that Mahree calls ‘Blanket’ is different. For one thing, it is younger—perhaps only a million or so of my years old.”
Mahree and Rob gasped sharply. “A million years old?” she repeated, and the Simiu nodded soberly.
“Blanket is far more interested in external stimuli and events than its companions. It is intrigued by the notion of our ship, and traveling through space. It likes us. It does not want us to perish, and it is willing to help us safely reach our destination. If we would like it to, Blanket has volunteered to join us aboard Rosinante, and provide us with oxygen. In return, we must promise to bring it back here, when it asks to be returned to its own world.”
“Can it give off that much oxygen?” Rob said skeptically, after he’d spent a moment assimilating the Simiu’s words. “Doesn’t it need its oxygen for itself?”
“No, the blankets themselves require very little oxygen. It is a by-product they produce during digestion. It has no part in their breathing process.”
They fart oxygen? Mahree thought, wildly, and giggled shrilly before she could stop herself. Rob reached over to put a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“We will need to provide Blanket with native rock and moss-plants, sufficient to allow it ample nourishment for the duration of our journey,” Dhurrrkk’ concluded.
“Well, if it tells us how much it needs, we’ll be happy to do that,” Rob said. “But there’s just one thing. How the hell do we get out of this hollow, and back to Rosinante?”
“Blanket has asked its companions to assist, and they have agreed. They think their companion foolish for wishing to depart this world in order to aid us,” the Simiu paused, then continued, as he evidently received additional information, “but none of them wish to see us perish. As long as they can remain here, the others are willing to help us reach the ship.”
“How do they propose to help us?”
“You will see. Please remain still. They mean no harm.” Rob started as two more of the creatures stirred, then began moving across the moss-plants toward them.
Mahree’s “Blanket” began crawling back toward her. She felt a moment of pleased satisfaction that it had evidently elected to return to her instead of staying with Dhurrrkk’, then the creature moved past her, out of her line of sight unless she turned her head. What is it going to do?
Mahree swallowed hard as she both heard and felt something brush against the material of her vacuum suit, then the front collar of the suit was pressed against her throat as something heavy begin pulling itself up her back. She clenched her fists, squeezing her eyes shut, as Blanket slowly inched its way up. It’s saving your life, she thought, repeatedly. That’s not a fungus crawling up your body, it’s a person. A good, kind person. It’s saving your life…
Finally, the creature lay over her shoulders and down her back like a phosphorescent cape. At the extreme edge of her peripheral vision, she caught movement, then two glowing narrow “fingers” appeared as Blanket extruded two corners across her cheeks.
Mahree shivered, forcing herself to sit quietly. She closed her eyes as she felt the cold, admittedly damp substance of the alien being creep across her skin, until both pseudopods met, linking together across her upper lip.
She opened her eyes to find Rob staring down at the phosphorescent mass moving toward him. The doctor was chalky pale and runnels of sweat coursed down his face. He was trembling violently.
“Rob!” she said sharply. “Rob!”
Slowly, he looked up.
“Don’t pull a Simon Viorst on us, Rob! They’re helping us; just keep telling yourself that.”
The doctor took several deep breaths, then finally nodded. A touch of color reappeared in his lips. “Okay. Don’t worry about me, honey. I’m okay now.”
He sat still as the phosphorescent mass crept slowly up his back. “I just wish,” he said, and the control he was exerting over himself was palpable, “that I hadn’t watched that nineties version of The Puppet Masters so many times. Remind me to show it to you if we ever get home.”
Mahree drew a deep breath of relief, then picked up her helmet and gloves. “Everybody ready?” she said, standing. She discovered that, even with her head above the level of the hollow, she was breathing easily—the O2 level was no thinner than what she’d experienced camping in the mountains on Jolie.
“Ready,” Dhurrrkk’ said, handing Rob his helmet to carry. His blanket-creature was draped over his neck and back like a second, glowing mane.
“Ready,” Rob said. “Let’s rock.”
“Rock?” echoed Dhurrrkk’, as the three blanket-caped explorers picked their way out of the moss-plant hollow. “We must gather a number of rocks, true, along with harvesting plants, but don’t you believe, FriendRob, that we would be better served to do that closer to our ship? Rocks are heavy to carry.”
“Uh… yeah,” Rob said, giving Mahree a wink, and speaking with some difficulty because of the pseudopods linked across his upper lip, “you’re right, FriendDhurrrkk’. Rocks are heavy.”
Bennett R. Coles’ Astral Saga is a newer space opera/military science fiction novel series by an up-and-coming author of growing significance. This short story is based midway between Ghosts of War and March of War, books two and three of the Virtues of War trilogy. It provides just a glimpse into the life of one of the trilogy’s main characters during those chaotic times.
TWENTY EXCELLENT REASONS
BENNETT R. COLES
The lieutenants were stressing again. It seemed to be what they did best. Sublieutenant Jack Mallory didn’t care if they stressed on their off-time, but the quiet spectacle of hissed whispers and dagger glares was affecting all ranks. The ship’s bridge was crowded, and Jack kept tucked against a console to avoid getting shouldered out of the way.
He tried to distract himself by gazing up at the vision of outside space projected on the inner sphere of the bridge. Stars gleamed in the blackness across three quarters of the sphere, but low and forward the brown and green crescent of the planet Thor floated amidst a swarm of tactical symbols representing ships in orbit. The nearby star, Asgard, was a dazzling, orange orb a few degrees to the left. Jack let his gaze sweep across the starscape and spotted the single, brighter point of light that was Asgard’s companion star, Vanaheim. They and their planets made up the youngest human colony, Valhalla, which was widely considered to be a backwater in this ongoing rebellion. But Jack had been here long enough to know the rebels were still dangerous, fighting a guerilla campaign that was wearing the Astral Force down.
Maybe, he conceded, the lieutenants had reason to be stressed.
All he ever had to worry about was his Hawk. But even that suddenly wasn’t the same anymore. The Astral Force, in its wisdom, had decided that every Hawk pilot would now be augmented by a tactical crewmember. He turned again to glance at his new assistant.
Master Rating Daisy Singh stood beside him, watching the briefing preparations with a clear discomfort. Almost his height but looking very slight under her regulation coveralls, long black hair tied in a braid, she didn’t look old enough to have already been promoted twice, which spoke either to her incredible abilities or to the fact that too many people were dying in this war.
She caught his gaze.
“Is the bridge always like this?”
> “Just when we’re at war.”
She stared at him for a moment, then scoffed.
“Glad I’m not in charge,” she said.
“Welcome to my world,” he added. “Have you ever flown in a Hawk before?”
“I did the training course on the simulator,” she said, dark cheeks flushing. “Before that I was a sensors tech.”
Jack kept his face neutral, even as his heart sank. Not only did he have to change his ingrained patterns in the cockpit, he had a newbie riding shotgun.
“Well, you’ll have to tell me what you can do. I’m used to doing it all myself.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack was tempted to keep talking, to learn more about this poor kid being thrown in as his backseat. But Lieutenant Dawson tapped him sharply on the shoulder.
“Jack, we’re starting the mission brief—get in your damn spot.”
Jack followed his boss toward the open area of the bridge in front of the raised command chairs. The lieutenants were gathered literally at the feet of Frankfurt’s commanding officer, Commander Rossato. She, at least, didn’t look quite as grim as her officers.
The briefing started. Jack hoisted in the specific updates on rebel positions, but the presentation didn’t contain any surprises for him. There was a group of hostages being held in a rebel hideout on Thor.
It was an increasingly common tactic for the rebels. Jack felt an unusual emotion well within him: anger. He knew only too well what it meant to be a hostage, knew what it meant to be beaten nearly to death and displayed as a spectacle for all the worlds to see. He caught his fingers brushing over the reconstructed bones in his cheek and pulled his hand down. The doctors had done their job well, and no one need ever know what had happened. But he knew.
He felt a new determination to get this mission done.
Both of Frankfurt’s Hawks were going to be used for the extraction, each carrying four armed crewmembers to deal with resistance and to load the hostages. Astral Special Forces had a pair of operatives already in position to neutralize the rebels on site.
It wasn’t at all the sort of mission the Hawk had originally been designed for, but war was the great driver of innovation. Jack himself had already done more orbital insertions in his single year in the cockpit than most pilots did in their entire careers. Lieutenant Dawson, though, looked quite pale.
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