by Alma Boykin
“Will your officer be all right? If there is a problem we have medical personnel here who can help,” the Elder offered.
“Thank you very much, Elder, but our regulations require us to use human medical facilities whenever possible,” Jones explained, fudging a little. I wonder what she tripped on? I don’t remember anything when I walked through there. Rachel quickly finished whatever it was she had been doing and rejoined the rest of the party.
The Elder nodded and gestured. “There is one last thing I’d like you to see, General Jones. As my fellow officers and I said in our earlier communications, we have many things in common, and a desire to protect our home worlds is one of them. I understand that one of your difficulties at times is finding intruders before they come in reach of your planetary moon. Is that correct?”
Jones looked noncommittal. “It can be, but not always Elder. There are times we prefer to wait and see if someone is, shall we say, ‘just passing through.’ No call to be attacking innocents, after all.”
He seemed pleased with her response. “A most good policy, General Jones! Very wise!” They had reached a point that Jones estimated was about three-quarters of the ship’s length from where they had entered, and the Elder stopped, gesturing toward a door. “Perhaps then you can help us identify this creature. We found its ship in the area of the planet you call Jupiter, and it failed to answer our hails. We captured it, but thus far it has refused, or been unable, to communicate with us. Don’t worry, there’s a force-screen behind the door so it can’t get out.”
“I can’t promise anything,” Jones said, very puzzled, “but we’ll try. Commander, come join me.”
The advisor hung back a little, giving the door a wide berth. The Elder placed his hand on a panel and the door slid open. Jones looked in to see a reptile, over two meters long. It looked blue-grey in the light of the door, and its tail twitched, but otherwise it remained motionless, eyes closed. “I haven’t a clue, Elder. Commander, what do you make of it?”
Rachel stepped forward, took one glance and froze, all blood draining from her face. “You bastards, what have you done to her?” She spun, eye blazing in mad anger. “Run, now!”
As soon as she yelled it, the Elder and another Veitketer grabbed Rachel, while more appeared from behind panels set in the corridor wall. Rachel snarled and fought like a madwoman, cursing and clawing. “Fall back!” Jones yelled, trying to defend herself from the alien warriors converging on the humans. A blow to Jones’ head stunned her, scrambling her reactions long enough to allow the Veitketer to restrain her.
Low numbers and the narrow corridor worked against the humans. Rachel disappeared under a pile of Veitketer, emerging bloody and dazed, her hands tightly bound behind her and a gag in her mouth. The Elder smiled coldly and with a look of pure malice whispered something to her. She reared back, struggling to control herself, a look of abject terror on her face. The man bared more teeth and added something, then jerked his head. The brunette tried to resume the fight, but they dragged her off out of sight.
The three aliens holding Jones started pulling her off in the other direction, and the Elder joined them after a last pleased glance after the Commander. One of the aliens tapped something on Jones’ manacles and she staggered, suddenly having trouble coordinating her movements.
“I’d apologize for the deceptions, Jones, but deception is part of the Trader lifeway, and something of which we are very proud,” the Elder stated, flicking a switch on his chronometer. The yellow-green skin paled and his hair turned straw-brown, while the slit-pupils of his eyes rounded until they looked human. “The criminal who calls herself ‘Commander Ni Drako’ would recognize us on sight, and we needed time to confirm her identity. Now that we have her, I’m afraid that we’re going to have to keep you aboard until we finish carrying out her sentence. In appreciation for your help in her capture, you and your men won’t be harmed, but we do not care to be interrupted by a foolish rescue attempt.”
They had reached an open door, and Jones struggled, trying to keep them from shoving her inside. “What’s going on? And what are you talking about Rachel being a criminal? What’s going to happen to her?”
“The embarrassment that you call Rachel was tried and convicted many years ago of crimes against this tarqi. She fled, and we have been searching for her. As to her fate? She will die as an example to others, as decreed by the Elders’ Council. It shouldn’t take more than four of your days. She’s not that strong, so perhaps less?”
“No! You can’t! That’s, that’s—” Jones spluttered, still not thinking clearly as they pushed her through the door.
Just as the door started sliding closed, she heard a scream come from the direction they’d dragged Rachel. “Yes, we can,” the Elder stated, contentment in his eyes. Then the door shut and Jones was locked in with Marsh and Ngobo, and with her own thoughts.
That night Rahoul listened to Captain Monroe and wondered what the hell to do next. When the phone did not ring, he had kissed Panpit, collected his gear, and set a new speed record reaching Linconshire. Once there he’d found a disaster unfolding and no staff officers to deal with it, aside from Sandra Monroe. She’d briefed him and he took command, mobilizing the auxiliary troops available to the Regiment. Task done, Monroe found him in his office. “I almost forgot, sir. Before it hit the fan Cat One slipped me these and told me to give them to you, for security reasons.” She handed Rahoul what looked like a cell phone and a PDA. “And this.”
With a sinking heart he accepted the bone-handled knife as Monroe continued, “She said you’d know what it means and what to do.” He turned the beautifully carved and engraved weapon over, studying the markings before locking it in his desk drawer. When he looked up Monroe had a puzzled, worried expression. “Sir, Rachel exploded and killed people the last time someone tried to take that from her and she won’t loan it to anyone. Why did she give it to you?”
“According to tradition, when the holder of a bahn’leh dies, the blade is returned to the person’s superior.”
“Oh shit, Sir! She must have decided it was a trap.”
“Correct. It’s something she and I have discussed before, Sandra, so that’s how I know what she means by sending this with you. Thank you for bringing her gear back. You did very well.”
She heard the dismissal in his voice and turned to go, then turned back. “Sir, are we going to try to get our people out?”
“Yes. I don’t know exactly how yet, but yes, we are,” Rahoul reassured her. “We never abandon our own.”
After she closed the door Rahoul picked up his phone, then set the receiver down again. Some things were best done in person. Five minutes later he knocked on Father Mikael Farudi’s door. “Come in,” he heard, and opened the door.
“Colonel Khan! What can I do for you?” the Anglican priest said.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news, Father,” Khan started, shutting the door behind him.
Just after dawn, Rahoul picked up the chirping phone. I think I’ve done what I can do from here, at least until I hear from Horseguards and Vienna. I need the reinforcements, air support, and a miracle, in that order. “Khan.”
A familiar voice replied in German. “Good. The person I needed. Vienna got your report and I’m en route.”
“Very good, sir, no changes.” Well, almost none, but I’m not going to say anything over this line.
He waited until the Graf-General hung up, then sank into Evelyn Jones’ chair. Rahoul massaged his temples, forcing the headache away. I’ll sleep after he gets here, conditions permitting. Vienna had listened to his account, as best he could give it, and General McPherson, military head of the GDF, had stated, “I’m sending Hohen-Drachenburg. Not to take over, but to act as xenologist. He’s the only thing I can spare right now.”
Major General Joschka Graf von Hohen-Drachenburg strode up the hallways of the 58th Regiment’s headquarters, almost outrunning his guide in his haste to get to the commanding officer’s office
. He threw open the door to find Lt. Col. Rahoul Khan talking to another officer. The blond woman looked at a sheaf of papers and nodded her head. “Yes sir, that’s it. The rest are dead, captured, or on temporary assignment where we can’t call them in. France and the Low Countries are on standby-watch for something else, so we only have regular Army.”
Khan winced but his voice remained steady, “Thank you, Monroe,” the South Asian officer said, before turning and acknowledging the Graf-General.
“At ease, Colonel, Captain. I assume you have things under control, so I am here only as an advisor unless you request otherwise,” Hohen-Drachenburg announced.
“Thank you, sir. Major Monroe, go eat and try to get some rest. You’re dismissed.” Her eyes were red with fatigue and, like Khan, it looked as if she’d slept in her uniform, if she’d slept at all. The Graf-General stepped out of the door to let her pass, then shut it behind him as he entered the cluttered office.
“Sit please, Colonel. What is your status? All the Secretary and Gen. McPherson gave me was that something very bad happened, the xenologist and commanding officer had been captured, and that you had taken command.”
Khan flopped down into the chair. “It’s not good, sir. I’ve lost a third of my combatants, including the adjutant, communications officer, and a number of junior officers, along with six of the NCOs. And General Jones. We’ve got a perimeter established and re-enforcements from the regular army are moving into place around the hostiles. No air support yet, but it was suggested that that would be counterproductive at this stage.”
Joschka noticed that Khan couldn’t keep his hands still. “When was the last time you got any sleep or food?”
“Sleep would be some time yesterday, sir. Food, I don’t remember. Dinner?”
“Right. Then my first advice is for you to eat something and go sleep for four hours, after you tell me who your number two is and where to find them,” Hohen-Drachenburg said. “And no protests, Rahoul. You’re no use flat on your nose.”
Khan tried to protest, then subsided. “Yes, sir. Captain—acting Major—Monroe is executive. And sir, there’s something you need to see.”
“Dear God have mercy,” Joschka breathed, crossing himself as he looked down on the gravely injured woman. Even blurred and faded by the misty gas swirling inside her ship’s medical tank, her wounds made his stomach churn.
“You should have seen her when they brought her in, my lord, if you think she looks bad now.”
“How long?”
Khan let out a deep breath. “Twelve hours, and still no motion or sign of regaining consciousness. Sergeant Weber and I put her in as soon as the helo landed but I’m afraid we may have been too late.”
Joschka ran a hand through his graying brown hair. “Does anyone know what happened to her?”
“Sergeant Weber said they were,” Khan looked down, fists clenched. “After she was captured, they cut off her plait and her tail, then her ears and claws and had started,” he swallowed and looked up, eyes burning. “Skinning her. And that’s just what we know of. I suspect there was more. Weber and Lee had ducked out of sight as soon as Monroe and Nielsen left the ship. When everything went wrong, they managed to evade until they heard screams. That’s how they found her. The three of them fought a way out, somehow, before she collapsed. Weber and Lee think that the monsters gave her drugs to keep her conscious so she would feel everything. I’m putting them up for the DSO for getting her out. Weber, Monroe, Lee, and Lt. Nielsen are the only members of the boarding party that escaped. And Rachel.”
The two men looked down at their advisor and Joschka took a deep breath, not wanting to say what came next. Khan beat him to it. “I, that is, just before we got her in and started the equipment running, Father Mikael gave her Last Rites. What ever happens next, sir, she’s ready.”
After making certain that Khan had eaten and gone to bed and getting updates from Maj. Monroe, Joschka returned to Rachel’s ship and stared down at his old friend. Lines of pain creased her face, aging her, and a ragged fan of short, black-brown hair spread around her head like a halo. Nothing remained of her ears but tiny scabbed stumps. The gas suspending the nanomedical repair devices concealed the rest of her, for which he was grateful. He rested his hands on the medical tank’s thick glass and prayed. “Oh Rakoji, I am sorry. Please God, Father, don’t let them win.”
Eight hours later, the Graf-General, Khan, and Monroe gathered around an electronic sand table model of the enemy ship and its surroundings, trying to sort out what they knew and how to go about rescuing the captive troopers.
“And you said from what you could remember that the entrances are here and here?” Khan turned some dials and green highlights appeared on the 3-D display.
Monroe agreed. “Yes sir. There may have been another further forward, but I didn’t get that far in.” She gestured towards the ship’s bulging mid-point. “Only to here.”
A red dot from a laser pointer appeared and drew a circle around a spot just aft of the ship’s bow. «There’s an emergency hatch here, one meter by one and a half, operable from outside. It can be opened larger from inside, expanding to four meters by three meters. It connects directly with the forward cargo section, here, which is where the hostages are currently being held.»
Joschka and Rahoul heard the information directly into their minds and jerked their heads around to see the “speaker.” She had propped herself against the wall, perching on the edge of a table in a dark corner of the room. «My throat’s so swollen that I can’t talk.» She looked apologetic. «Can’t sit yet, either.»
Monroe could tell that something was going on but couldn’t hear the conversation. “What’s the matter, sir?”
Khan pointed to the pale figure in the corner. “Rachel has decided to join us. She says she can’t talk out loud, so she’s communicating in a different way to the Graf-General and I.”
Monroe brightened. “That’s wonderful! She’s better and someone else will finally get the last word in!”
The men stared at the blond Canadian, then started laughing despite the gravity of the situation. Rachel managed a harsh wheeze before she eased herself out of the corner and approached the sand table, where the three officers hugged her. «Easy, please! I’m still a wee bit sore.»
“Oops, sorry.”
«And, as much as I hate to say it, we need to keep working. They’ve not killed any more of the hostages, but I don’t know how long a respite we’ll have.»
Joschka translated for Monroe’s benefit, and frowned. “How do you know, Commander?”
«I have an open link with one of the prisoners. Not one of our people, but a friend and ally the bastards captured earlier. That person is feeding me data as long as she can, whatever she can learn.»
“Isn’t that going to drain your energy as well as providing information? And put you at risk if someone senses the link?” Joschka asked with some concern, thinking back to the cave-in.
Rachel nodded, shrugged, and tweaked something on the model in order to correct part of the ship’s interior layout. «Yes, sir. But not as much risk or drain as you might think and we need the information more than I need to be staying up late carousing.»
“I fear you are correct. For once. So, Rad— Rachel, tell us what you know,” Joschka ordered.
Khan added, “If you can, type it so Monroe can follow along.”
«Yes sirs. The ship is called the ‘Gerzhal da Kavalle’ and is a modified goods transport vessel.»
An hour later the quartet were still working at the sand table. Khan stepped back and folded his arms. “That’s as much as we can do for the moment, I think, sir. Do you concur?”
Joschka stroked his neatly trimmed brown beard and nodded. “Yes. Until we get more men, and can sort out how to breach the shields, we have done what planning we can do.”
As Monroe finished recording the session, the men turned to Rachel. She was visibly weakening and Khan growled, “Why didn’t you tell us you were getti
ng tired?”
She spread her gloved hands in apology and he heard her ‘voice’ very faintly, «Because you needed me, sir. And I’m just a little tired, is all.»
“Bull,” Khan declared. “You are getting something to eat, if you can, and going off duty. That’s a direct order, Rachel. Don’t defy me on this.” Joschka glared his agreement. Khan continued, “Major Monroe, see that Rachel gets food and then escort her back to her quarters. And you’re going to stay there for the next,” he glanced at his watch, “five hours, Na Gael! Am I clear?”
“Yes sir,” Rachel rasped.
She had a protein-rich meatshake and a glass of ice water in the officers’ mess. Monroe was walking Rachel back to the lab when Joschka appeared. “Major, I’ll take over from here, if you have no objection.”
“No my lord, not at all,” Monroe replied, leaving Rachel to the Graf-General’s tender mercies.
He checked to make certain that no one was watching and then offered her his arm. “Lean on me.” They walked in silence. At last he said aloud, “It’s been a while since you had short hair.”
«I like it better long, Joschka, but it was the first thing that they—»
“Understood. Around this corner?”
«Affirmative.» She straightened up. He released her arm as she slowed a bit to allow him to get ahead of her, as was proper for their official positions.
Once inside the lab she stopped and turned to face him. «I need your help. My fingers are too tender to program the medical equipment.»
She used her teeth to pull off the black gloves and he hissed as he saw the damage. “Whatever you need.”
«Thank you. This way.» She led the way to the wall beneath a narrow metal staircase. After confirming that the human on guard outside the back of the lab was not looking their direction, she laid her battered hand against the faux-wood panel. A hint of light rolled under it and Joschka heard a latch open.