by Alma Boykin
Lavosier was surprised to see a small, dark-haired civilian woman facing off with a tall, very blond First Lieutenant. “And further more, thou ill-mannered cross between a shoat and the village idiot, my name is neither ‘hey baby,’ nor ‘Brownie.’ Nor are my nocturnal recreational activities any of thy business. Art thou clear on that, Lieutenant?”
The man, backed against the wall and braced at attention, gulped. “Yes ma’am!”
“What is my name and rank, Lieutenant?”
“Rachel Na Gael, Commander, Royal Navy retired.”
She nodded and stepped back. “Correct. Willst thou remember that or dost Captain Marsh need to be informed of thy most unfortunate lack of both long and short term recall capabilities?”
“Yes, ma’am. No ma’am!” As the lieutenant said this, Weber pulled Lavosier back out of sight. They waited until they heard Cdr. Na Gael bark “Dismissed!” Her victim trotted past, oblivious to their presence. Then they continued their tour of the facility. Of the woman they saw no trace.
The two men made their way down a long, wood-paneled hall to the far end of the north wing. Weber pointed out the light beside the door. “If you value your life, don’t go in if it’s not out or green, or without knocking. Cdr. Na Gael doesn’t react well to surprises.” He knocked, but there was no answer and the door was locked. As they turned to go, they could hear step-tap-step getting louder and a voice echoed up the hall, “Just a moment, got delayed, sorry.” The woman they had seen earlier walked briskly towards them, elaborate cane in one hand and a black satchel slung over one shoulder. They gave her room and she unlocked the door for them, hanging her satchel next to the door within easy reach of her desk. Then she turned.
Corporal Lavosier was glad he’d been warned about the xenologist’s handicap, so he didn’t blink at her patch and scars. She smiled at the two soldiers. “Good morning Sergeant Weber! What can I do for you?”
He waved towards his associate. “Ma’am, this is Corporal Jacques Lavosier. He’s one of the new rotation and will be working with RSM Chan and me in weapons and training. Commander Rachel Na Gael is the xenology specialist, and is a medic as well.”
Rachel extended her hand. “Welcome, Corporal. Despite what you might hear, I don’t bite much.”
Lavosier shook her hand, noting as he did that it seemed cool to the touch. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
Weber pointed out the exits from the lab, then excused them to finish their tour, going out the back door into the rose gardens behind the lab. “So, what tales have you heard about our xenology specialist?”
“That she’s an alien, that she is insane, and that she’s someone in Vienna’s relative, which is how she came to work here,” the Frenchman said.
“The first one is true. The second one just seems true. The third, no. You do not have to like her, Lavosier, but trust her. And do not get on her bad side—it is not healthy.” Weber led the new man past the greenhouse, around some hedges and toward the entrance to the motor pool. “Oh, and if she says run? Do not ever stop to ask why.”
Rachel paged through the morning’s reports and made notes beside one or two items. Mostly hearsay on top of wishful thinking—people seeing things and imagining far more interesting explanations for them than really existed. For example, the slow moving triangular UFO reported over Belgium, which after a little observation proved to be an ultralight with unapproved lights. The owner got to talk to EuroControl, and three websites appeared discussing the alien visit and what it could mean, and was it related to the crop circles seen in Flanders. Rachel circled the report of yet more odd things from under the volcanic rocks near Bingen in Germany. This is the third group that have been found. Time for more investigation. Sorting the danger from the dross seemed to be a fair part of her job, one not too far from sorting auction goods for a Mart Meet. She blocked that line of thought before it could go too far. Keep the useful, lose the painful, or else you’ll never get a moment’s peace.
After looking over the morning news, Rachel didn’t have anything on her schedule and she decided not to try and find anything for the next hour or so. Instead she stripped and inspected the blast pistol she kept in her desk drawer, then pulled down an old and carefully wrapped book. Hmmm, wonder why it falls open here? Someone been borrowing again? “God of our Fathers, known of old, / Lord of the far-flung battle line, / Beneath whose awful hand we hold / Dominion over palm and pine, / Lord God of Hosts, Be with us Yet, / Lest we forget, lest we forget,” she read aloud. [‘The Recessional’, Rudyard Kipling]
“East is east and west is west, and never the twain shall meet. / Till Earth and sky stand presently before the Judgment seat,” a man’s voice began, and Rachel happily chimed in, “But there is neither East nor West, border, nor breed, nor birth, / When two strong men stand face to face though they come from the ends of the Earth.” [‘Ballad of East and West’, R. Kipling]
Rahoul Khan smiled slightly as he handed the xenology specialist a small package. “Don’t tell me you had to memorize poetry in school.”
“No. I had to memorize pricing structures, star charts, and chronowave patterns. Poetry was a frivolous waste unless it could be used to lull a buyer into lowering their guard,” and she made a face as she opened the parcel. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“You can tell me why Captain Monroe is so put out with her fiancée. It has something to do with rugby, I think.” He didn’t seem surprised when Rachel shook her head vigorously and made a warding-off gesture. “No help then, are you?”
“Wrong species, wrong age, wrong problem. You’d be better off asking one of the marrieds than asking me. The only thing I know about human love affairs is to stay well clear of them until after the dust settles.”
The South Asian officer pointed. “In that case you can find out what that is. Washed ashore and bit someone, according to the paper there with it.”
“I’ll see what I can sort out. Thank you and good luck,” she offered with a smile.
General Evelyn Jones called Rachel into her office after dinner. “Commander, this goes no farther than these walls. Have you heard any rumors about Major Khan?”
“New rumors or old ones, ma’am?”
“Either.”
“Let’s see,” the alien started ticking off her fingers. “One: the Major is going to resign because he hasn’t been promoted. That one has been going around since he was a Second Lieutenant. Two: that he’s gay, which I suspect is not true. Three: that he’s secretly married. Four: that he has a mistress in the village or in London. And five: that he’s considering a transfer to the Chaplin’s Corps, which again goes back to his days as a junior officer. Otherwise, nothing,” Rachel finished with a chuckle.
Jones ran a hand over her short, sandy-brown hair. “I’ve heard the one about the mistress, except in this version he has one in the village and in London.”
She rolled her eyes and her advisor snorted, “If he does, I’d like to know where he finds the time. Is there a problem, ma’am?”
“Not exactly. I’m just trying to run down something that’s been floating around before it gets to be a problem.”
This drew another snort. “This group is worse than a starliner full of old ladies. If you don’t need anything else, ma’am, I’d like to get back to work sorting out that thing that came in this morning.”
The officer cocked her head in puzzlement. “Still no identification? I’d have thought that it was something simple, like the ambergris the Americans found.”
“It has some sort of biologic and electronic interface in it, ma’am, so it’s not from a sick whale. Unless we have a mutant whale running around robbing computer stores, in which case I think the Russians owe you yet another explanation.” With that Rachel returned to the lab as Jones rubbed her forehead.
Why did Jones want to know about Rahoul? Rachel shook her head a little as she walked. I wonder what the latest rumor is. And why she’s twitching. We survived that mess in Yorkshire last year—well, m
ost of us survived. Rachel let her expression settle into its usual grim lines. She’s trying too hard again. I don’t know who she’s trying to impress, but she damn near got all of us killed, and now she’s practically making the sign of the cross at my back when I walk past. Damn, I’m a predator, what does she expect? The thing on the worktable caught her attention and Rachel shrugged, then returned to work. At least she didn’t ask if I wear flea collars. I am sooo tired of that story.
Rachel brought the mystery item to the next morning’s Staff Briefing and set it on the table in front of her. The past few weeks had been blessedly quiet and the other staff members’ reports were brief and routine, “all of which suggests that excrement is about to hit an impeller somewhere,” as Captain Monroe put it. There could be such a thing as too quiet, the seven people in the room agreed. At last Rachel’s turn came around. She pushed the box forward and called up an image on the computer screen.
“This arrived yesterday morning for identification. It was found on the coast near Penzance by some beach keepers and consists of both electronic and biologic materials. As best as I can determine, it seems to be part of a larger creature with a control circuit implanted in it. The organic material has decomposed to the point that all I can determine is that it was a cephalopod of some sort.” Images of a squid, octopus, and nautilus appeared on the screen. “Why it had a type of limiter circuit implanted, or rather grown into it, I do not know. I suggest forwarding this to Captain Ahkai for her analysis.”
Jones chuckled at the image that came to mind. “A remote-control squid?”
“No, more a device to restrict some aspect of the creature’s behavior or functions, rather than to allow someone else to manipulate the creature’s actions,” Rachel clarified. “Electronics are my weak point, ma’am. That’s why I recommend letting Ahkai and her people run a full protocol on whatever it is.” She frowned down at the box.
“Commander, who currently has the type of technology that you’re describing?” Capt. John Marsh, the communications officer, asked, looking up from his notes.
“No one should, Captain Marsh. It’s Terrestrial, but from about 500 years in your future. Before you ask ma’am, I’ve already started a trace on the source.” Rachel sat back in her chair, still frowning at the mysterious thing.
Major Khan looked up from his notes. “Did you at least figure out why it ‘bit’ the people who found it?”
“Yes, because it ‘bit’ me, too. I got careless and brushed it with a bare fingertip. Won’t do that again!” she declared. “The weak electric field around a moving animal is enough to activate the circuitry and it sparks into the nervous system.”
“Very well, Commander. Write everything up and send it to Capt. Ahkai. And I want a second copy, with images and your account of getting zapped, for our records here,” Jones ordered. “Anything else?” After the head shakes, “negative,” “No Ma’am,” finished, Jones stood. “Khan, I’d like to see you and Commander Na Gael in my office at 1100.”
After Jones, RSM Chan, and Capt. Marsh had left, the other officers turned to their civilian advisor, blocking her path and grinning.
“Rachel, did you eat a lieutenant yesterday morning?” Monroe asked.
Rachel ducked and looked a bit sheepish. “Not exactly. Nibbled on one, perhaps? He seemed to be under the impression that by calling me a cute name and suggesting that he was my type, he could get an easy lay. I gently corrected this misunderstanding and I will admit that perhaps I was not as complimentary about his ancestry as is strictly professional.”
The others laughed and even Rahoul smiled.
“From what I heard, when he got back to the communications center, there was a trail of smoke from scorched tail feathers, his ears were crisped, and he’d stopped on the way to check and see if he still had his manhood,” Kwame Ngobo, the adjutant, expanded.
“I wasn’t that harsh, I swear! I leave that sort of thing to you or the RSM.” She put on her best “affronted innocence” expression, which only generated more laughter.
Khan pointed to the door. “All right hyenas, back to work.” The others finished collecting their things and scattered to their departments and offices, and Rachel raised an eyebrow as she went past him.
“After the burial parties leave and the baffled crows have fled?” He glared at her and she shut up and vanished.
“The wise hyenas come out at eve / To take account of our dead,” he finished under his breath as he strode off. [‘Hyenas’, R. Kipling.]
Rachel knocked on the general’s inner office door. “Enter,” Jones called, and Rachel slid in, shutting the door behind her. Rahoul made room for her without taking his eyes off the general, and Rachel stopped to one side and slightly behind him.
“I’ll be brief Major, Commander. I’m not comfortable with your relationship. You two seem closer than is strictly appropriate for your positions,” Jones said, watching them closely.
The pair exchanged a puzzled glance and Rahoul frowned, then lit up. He turned to the xenologist. “I think I understand. There’s been a rumor going round that you and I are having a romance, isn’t there?”
Rachel grimaced. “There was until I heard it! Lt. Garcia won’t make that mistake again.” Jones could see the light dawn as human and Wanderer simultaneously put the pieces together.
“Ma’am, you also thought that we were romantically involved?” Rachel asked.
“Well, it certainly seems like you are,” Jones said, growing annoyed.
Rahoul and Rachel started laughing. The lean Welshwoman glared at the pair. “I fail to see what is funny.”
Khan managed to sober up first and explained. “Sorry, Ma’am. I’m Rachel’s godfather. Then-Captain Elizabeth FitzWilliam, the logistics officer, and I stood as her baptismal sponsors when she converted and was baptized during my first posting to the GDF in 1988. That’s all, ma’am.”
Rachel added, “We’re friends and comrades, but nothing more. Believe me, ma’am, there is no way under Heaven I’d get in a romantic entanglement with anyone in the GDF. I’m not going to destroy unit cohesion by doing something that stupid. Besides,” she finished, “I don’t date outside my species.” Khan rolled his eyes at the old joke, then sobered again.
Jones wasn’t convinced. “If that’s all there is, than how did you learn Trader Talk, Major?”
“I once went with her to get some information about a possible threat and learned some Trader as a result. Later, during the episode with the massive security breach, Rachel was so badly injured that she temporarily ‘lost’ her Terran languages. General Whitehead decided that he and I should learn at least enough of her talk to be able to get through to her if something like that ever happened again.” He looked over at Rachel, who nodded in confirmation.
The corner of Jones’ mouth twitched, then she gave in and smiled. “Well, if that’s all there is to it, then I suppose I’ll just tell you two not to take leave at the same time, so we can prune this rumor tree back to a workable size.”
“Yes ma’am,” Khan replied.
Rachel muttered something vaguely resembling “spoilsport,” then subsided.
Jones reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a box, which she tossed to Khan. He caught and opened it. Rachel peered over his shoulder at the contents, her grin spreading into a true smile when she saw the new insignia. “And while we’re spiking rumors, congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant Colonel Khan,” Jones said as she stood up and shook his hand. “Commander, you’re dismissed.”
“Yes Ma’am. Congrats Colonel. Now we just have to get you married!” and with that archaic reference, the Wanderer sailed out of the office, still smiling. Khan coughed and looked embarrassed.
“Let me guess. You are getting married,” Jones said.
She was amused to see Rahoul Khan blush as he admitted, “We’ve been keeping it very quiet, but yes. Only Father Farudi knows.”
Jones turned and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter a
t his discomfort, then started coughing as her throat spasmed. “Sorry. When do you want to take your leave?”
“Early August, ma’am. Ah, we’d planned to ask Rachel to be one of the witnesses, but we were going to have the ceremony at St. Clement Dane’s, because Panpit’s father is RAF,” he said.
“Which Rachel can’t do if you don’t have overlapping leaves. Not that a lack of permission ever stops her!” She thought for a moment. “Simple enough. I’ll have her come with me to the meeting in London that’s scheduled for early August.” Evelyn smiled broadly. “I assume that you don’t care to have this made public.”
Rahoul smiled back, shaking his head. “No ma’am, I don’t. Not until after the ceremony. I meant to tell you when I made my leave request but I’d just as soon keep this quiet. Panpit and I are going to get enough grief as it is.” At her inquiring look, he pulled a picture out of his inner tunic pocket. “She’s a bit younger than I am and my family doesn’t exactly approve of her.”
Evelyn Jones studied the small portrait of a beautiful half-Asian woman with bright green eyes and sloe-black hair, then handed it back with a sad smile. “Craig was almost ten years younger than me. We caught our share of hell, as you can imagine, but I wouldn’t have traded him for any older gentleman you cared to mention. Congratulations, Rahoul. My lips are sealed.”
Back in the lab, Rachel finished typing up her observations and sent them to Capt. Rhoswitha Ahkai. “I think Joschka needs to know about this directly,” she decided. “This is very much like . . .” She let the words trail off, unwilling to say them aloud. Like the last time a Trader got stupid. He really needs to know, and I need to start monitoring things more closely. I don’t like this. The Ideology War is perfect cover for trouble. “I need a vacation” she informed the universe. “Already.”