by S. L. Viehl
She had to live, if only to know.
At times there was movement in the tank. The guard muttered some things in his clipped language to another who entered and exited at irregular intervals. Whenever the other male paid a visit, the sound of air bubbles preceded a slight shift of weight in the water.
Liana understood the reason for the movement, sounds, and infrequent visits. The intruders who had taken over the ship were using breathing equipment. That meant they were land-dwellers and not aquatics. This was an advantage, for most land-dwellers were weak, bony creatures who swam like cripples. Their breathing equipment was equally fragile, and had hoses to bite through and regulators to smash.
But who had brought them to the ship? Why were they here? What did they intend to do? If only she knew the answer to one of those questions.
Nerala gradually regained consciousness, but did not move very much. My lady, have they harmed you?
She asked her question in the old language, which only another Ylydii could gather into their head bones and sort out into words.
Liana saw the wisdom of using it and answered in kind. I am bound and my eyes are blindfolded, but I am not hurt anywhere. She forced herself to remain as still as possible, as the cords seemed to be shrinking and cutting deeper into her hide. I asked for aid for you but they would not provide it.
Do not concern yourself with me. Nerala seemed truly indifferent to her own imminent demise. Where is your mother?
Liana felt her throat tighten. I don’t know. If she began losing control now, she would end up harming herself and finishing off Nerala. How was the ship taken? Did they capture the entire crew?
I do not know how they boarded us, but our people put up a brave fight, my lady. Like all Ylydii, Nerala avoided the direct mention of death. I barricaded myself in the command center and tried to signal for assistance, but our transponder was the first thing they destroyed.
Liana could taste the stink of the male guard as he swam over to them. A device squawked, and then his voice was translated into understandable language. What are you slots humming about?
Slots. As if all they had of value was that. Liana felt her blood heat.
His translator cannot reveal our sounds as words, Nerala muttered quickly before answering the guard in spoken Ylydii with, We sing to give comfort to each other.
Liana felt the disturbance of the water as the guard slashed the end of his weapon in front of their faces. Keep it down.
Of course. Liana kept her tone polite, even as she imagined using her teeth to fashion a slot in his face.
She and Nerala remained silent for a long time, and then carefully began singing to each other again.
How can we summon help? Liana asked.
I have already enabled the only other transmitter on the ship, my lady, Nerala said.
Liana hated being reminded of the locator device the medicals had inserted in her spine. Carada had insisted on it, however, and had forbidden her to make any protest. Surely such a signal could not be heard out here. They were thousands of miles from Ylyd and any hope of rescue, and the implant was designed to work underwater, not in space.
Sounds travel, Nerala said. It may be very weak, but it could be recognized by a sharp ear.
Liana thought of the ’Zangian aquatics, some of whom were said to patrol space around their world in fighter vessels. At the same time, they did not know if all the intruders were land-dwellers. We must do something else.
I am of no use to you now, my lady. I can feel gouts passing through my vents. Nerala listened to the water for a moment. This one is armed but he is alone, and the other will not bring him new air for another quarter hour.
What should I do?
This one cannot cry out or raise an alarm if he cannot breathe from that device strapped to his back. She paused and forced air through her vents. Use my passing to draw him closer. Sever his lines.
I do not want you to die. It was a childish, stupid wish. Liana didn’t care, and then something gathered inside her. Her mother had raised her with dignity; she would expect her to behave like an adult. Forgive me, Captain. I will assure that all of our sisters hear your name, and come to know what you did to protect us. You will never be forgotten.
I am honored. Nerala’s song grew faint. I must leave you now, my lady. Live in the light.
She could barely voice the appropriate farewell, and then she said as she wanted, not as she should. Go with love.
Happiness warmed Nerala’s final words. I do. I . . .
Liana felt the last gush of clotted, bloody water ease from Nerala’s gill vents, and heard the final beat of her great heart. Uncaring of her shrinking bonds or what the guard might do, she threw back her head and released a pulse of sorrow.
Darkness shrouded the interior of the Ylydii ship, with only emergency exit lights casting a red glow in the water. Everything had been flooded with the dark, slightly briny liquid—taken directly from Ylydii oceans, Burn guessed—but the temperature of it was far too cold to be comfortable.
A wall panel showed that the ship’s main computers remained offline, and only minimal power was being used to keep the hub tanks turning and their liquid atmosphere from freezing. There were no signs of equipment failure or accidental destruction. He wasn’t sure what had happened until he turned a corner and saw two figures floating serenely toward him.
Both were aquatics, but not alive. From their wounds, both had been shot through the skull at close range by pulse fire.
Burn kept his weapon harness on as he swam slowly, watching for movement, listening for any sound. The silence was so complete that his heart seemed to pound in his brow.
Don’t shoot anything. He was reasonably sure any survivors would have been imprisoned where they couldn’t cause any trouble, but the mercenaries might not have captured everyone. Wait. Stay alert.
He caught sight of a humanoid male in a breathing rig, treading water and holding a weapon ready. He was positioned before an open hatch leading from the cargo hold to the access corridors. He was not Ylydii, or even aquatic. His garments were minimal and crisscrossed by straps to which more weapons and blades were attached.
Burn kept out of sight and considered how to make this first contact. If the guard was a crew member working for Ylydii, then it would be criminal to attack him. If he was a mercenary, he would have knowledge Burn needed. His general inclination was to believe that the other male was a mercenary. Surely no crew member serving in a liquid atmosphere could work well while being hampered by such an awkward breathing rig.
The only way to know is to approach and speak to him.
A limp black body with multicolored, veil-like fins floating listlessly in the water drifted out of an open hatchway. It was a dead crew member. The guard lifted his weapon and fired at it, knocking it back from where it came.
Or not.
Burn shot forward and slammed the guard into the nearest solid object. With his fin hook he sliced through the supply lines at the mercenary’s tanks and jerked the rig down so that the straps pinned his upper limbs. The guard’s rifle sank to the bottom of the compartment.
It gave Burn mild pleasure to see the panic on the other man’s countenance as he circled around and pressed his hook to the soft flesh of his throat. He recognized the aquatic translation device the mercenary wore, which would allow him to understand Burn. How many others?
The humanoid gaped, and then convulsed as water flooded his mask. His bulging eyes darted to the portside access way.
Burn followed the glance. Is that where the rest of them are? Tell me and I’ll let you go.
The merc nodded frantically, twisting as he tried to raise his arms, as if to point. Then he slashed out, and the bright glitter of a blade flashed in Burn’s face.
Burn jerked to avoid being stabbed in the eye, taking a glancing blow on the side of his face. He slashed his hook across the other male’s soft neck flesh, opening the thick veins there. You should have told me. He waited until th
e merc went limp and swam into the starboard access way.
Signaling Shon was vital, but Burn didn’t dare engage his transponder until he knew how many hostiles were present. The proximity scanner in his headgear showed him that the passages ahead were clear, and identified a power source. He swam quickly and silently to the blip, which turned out to be a console in the ship’s communication room.
They left this unguarded?
Someone had blasted through the hatch to get inside, but once there they hadn’t given the equipment much attention. Two of the three consoles had sustained minor damage from rifle blasts, while a third appeared inert and nonoperational.
Evidently the mercenaries were complete morons.
Burn rebooted the third console. A cracked vid screen flickered on, displaying the status of a destroyed transponder. Tapping a few keys, he used the ship’s intercom system to pick up a weak signal coming from the portside. Being inside allowed him to make out the code, which was a standard body locator beacon.
There they are.
He used the computer to access a schematic of the ship’s layout. The mercs would be in command and guarding the prisoners, so he found a path to go around them and into the portside through the guest quarters reserved for air breathers. Once he had worked out how he would go in, he plotted an escape route.
There he ran into the first of many problems. Alone he could get to the prisoners, but he’d have to disable all the guards or risk being captured on the way out. Then there was the problem of getting the Ylydii off the ship. The transpod would only hold three at the most. He’d have to get to their launch bay and take one of their space-to-surface shuttles, providing that it had intact liquid atmosphere.
He pulled up a monitor screen that showed the interior of the launch bay, and swore. The pad was empty and the launch lock had been left open after they jettisoned the launches.
Burn knew that, unlike the ’Zangians, the Ylydii could not survive outside their liquid environment for more than a few minutes. He might be able to get to the captives and free them, but no one was leaving the ship. He’d have to regain control of the helm and find a pilot.
If there was no pilot . . .
He pulled up the ship’s flight, engine, and navigational protocols. The Ylydii had conglomerated the best of several standard League ship designs, but they had used circular and spherical adaptations and configurations that were totally unfamiliar to him.
Burn plugged his transponder into the communication array and used the ship’s power relays to boost and shield the signal he sent to Shon. Major, the ship is under mercenary control. I’m in communications, and ready to go after the survivors on the portside.
We’ve got fifteen merc support ships out here with more on the way. A burst of pulse fire temporarily disrupted the relay. Burn, get those people out of there.
It could help if you’d send over a pilot who knows how to fly this spinner.
I already have, Sublieutenant, the oKiaf transmitted back. Enjoy your first solo flight.
“The one who got away.”
Teresa turned to see Noel Argate watching her from the edge of the moon pool deck.
She already knew what she would say before she removed her regulator and mask, but she took her time doing so. “The one who said he didn’t need an alien-lover girlfriend wrecking his career.”
“Teresa. You remembered. I’m touched.”
“It isn’t every day you find yourself dumped by your lover and expelled from your master’s program for cheating on a test you studied six months to pass.” She stayed in the water. “That program you planted on my computer was inspired, by the way. Everyone thought I had used it to hack into the university’s database and get those test answers. No BioTech on the planet would even glance at my enrollment application after you railroaded me.”
He held up one finger. “Don’t forget, I drove you off the planet as well.”
“That, too.” How like Noel to admit it so baldly, and right to the face of his former victim.
“Fortunately for me, you’re not a vindictive person.”
“You have always pegged me so well.” She removed the long blade from her shoulder harness and let the light gleam along its honed edge before replacing it. “Feel like going for a swim?”
“Maybe later, when there isn’t any steam pouring out of your ear canals.” Noel chuckled and dropped down to sit on the deck step, seemingly indifferent to the fact that seawater instantly soaked his immaculate trousers to the knees. “Your prediction was dead on, you know. I wrecked my career quite adequately on my own.”
She arched her brows. “Really. What brought you down? Sleeping with the wrong professor’s wife, or pissing on the wrong colleague?”
“Terran marine biology has become choked with the young and the restless these past few years.” Mild annoyance made faint lines appear across his forehead. “A promising experiment went bad, and someone with slightly more ambition than me took advantage of it.”
“Exposed you before you could clean up the mess and cover your ass, did he?” She let her grin spread wide. “Lord, Noel, as justice goes, that’s almost poetic.”
He looked down at the rippling surface of the pool. “It ruined my marriage and my career.”
Finding out he’d married someone else sent a small shock wave through her. “It obviously did nothing to block your dive into the exciting field of intergalactic military science.”
“I wasn’t thinking when I enlisted. I just had to get away from it; get off Terra and start over.” He tugged at the front seam of his shirt. “The uniform takes some getting used to, but the rest of it isn’t much different than teaching at BioTech was. I travel more. My colleagues aren’t Terran, of course, but one gets used to that off-planet.”
“How enormously courageous of you.” She swam to the edge of the pool. “Do go on. I should start weeping, oh, any year now.”
“I think you’ve cried enough over me.” He reached out to help her out.
“I hate to deflate your self-opinion, Noel, but it was only that one time, when I found all my belongings in the yard in front of our apartment.” Teresa ignored his hand and climbed out of the pool. “Mostly it was for the clothes. The rain and mud had ruined half of them, and I couldn’t afford to replace them.”
“The housekeeping drone wasn’t programmed to do that. I guess it got its wires crossed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “God, you really must hate my guts.”
“Long time ago.” She began peeling off her wet-suit, and hesitated. It had been decades since she had lived on Terra, where public nudity was only one of the many social taboos. “I’m naked under this. If that’s a problem for you and your delicate homeworld sensibilities, best turn your back.”
He shrugged. “Seeing you naked was always a pleasure, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I haven’t been a pretty young coed for twenty years, Noel,” she said wryly as she continued to strip. “These days my body fights gravity, and gravity is starting to win.”
“Nonsense. Mature women have their own appeal.” He studied her. “You’ve grown up beautifully, Terri.”
“Thank you. I think I can die happy now.” She stowed her suit and rig in her locker and pulled on a dry tunic and trousers. Get this over with, now. She faced him. “What are you doing here, Noel, and what do you want?”
He stroked his chin. “Friendship being out of the question, I suppose.”
“I’d rather tongue-kiss a man-of-war.”
He didn’t seem offended by that. “All right, then, all the cards on the table. I want a mogshrike, Terri. What I can learn from it may help our troops when we move through aquatic territory.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all.” He smiled. “You don’t have to be afraid of me anymore. You have the greater advantage here. These are your people, your facility, your research. No one is loyal to me; no one even cares who I am. Half of them only see the uniform a
nyway.”
“The military hasn’t done much to endear itself to us since they commandeered the data we collected during the SEAL program.” Teresa knew they were using it for intelligence work, too, as evidenced by Shon Valtas’s alterforming into a double of Rushan Amariah.
Noel shrugged. “Look, Terri, I’m going back to the war in a month or two. Why not get a little of your own back this time? Use me and what I can requisition while I’m here. You’ve certainly earned the right, and you need me.”
“Do you really think we can cage one of these monsters?” She shook her head before he could answer. “I must be out of my mind to be seriously considering it.” Seawater ran into one of her eyes, and she knuckled it.
“I can assure you that I’ve personally managed creatures equal in size on Terra. Quadrant’s brought in even bigger, nastier ones on other worlds. It won’t be a problem for MRD. Here.” He pressed a clean towel against her stinging eye. “What we need is your direction, and permission to do it.”
If only it were that simple. “Tranqing a ’shrike might actually be easier than getting permission to do it. The colony has a council that loves to veto things like this. Also, the ’Zangians have a deep and abiding hatred for ’shrikes, and for good reason. We couldn’t bring it anywhere near them; they’d kill it immediately.”
“I’ve scouted a small bay about thirty kim to the north. It’s not inhabited by anything but smaller fish and some reef feeders, and the submerged rock formations are perfect for what we need. I can have a team of engineers on-planet and building the containment barriers within twenty-four hours.”
Suspicion rose hot and fast in her again. “Had it all planned out, did you?”
“I was hoping, that’s all.” He didn’t avoid her gaze. “We’ve tried this on other worlds, without much success. The military is very interested in seeing how species like these can be subdued.”
“You mean, butchered.”
“We’re at war, Terri.” He gestured toward the URD’s dome. “What you’re dealing with here could be what we encounter if we have to enter marine territory populated by similarly hostile aquatics. What I learn here could be invaluable to preserving the lives of our troops.”