Dremiks (29 page)

Two decks below her quarters, Maggie walked around Lander 3 for the second time. Lieutenant Price followed her, a look of long suffering patience fixed on his face.

“I’ve checked the seals, ma’am. Twice.”

She flicked her gaze over him before returning to the checklist. He was insane if he thought she’d let him take the captain, Guttmann, doctors Ruger and Fortunas, Ryan Hill, and Chancellor Trell off the ship in a lander she hadn’t personally verified was flight ready.

“Commander.” Swede’s tone conveyed a great deal in a single word. Despite his obvious exasperation, the engineer waited patiently while O’Connell signed the pre-flight log on Price’s tablet. Then, with a nod to the other pilot, he took her arm and pulled her aside.

She glanced down at her elbow, still held loosely in the lieutenant’s grasp. He squeezed his fingers gently before releasing her.

“Would you please stop hovering? Tony is already a ball of nerves without you mother-henning us.”

She snorted in response. With a critical look she stepped back and examined Swede. His dress whites were immaculate. The gold braid on his sleeves didn’t show a single loose thread. The high collar and tailored waist of the uniform jacket accentuated his excellent physique.

“You never do get this medal straight.” She reached up to re-align the supposedly offending award. “Remind me again what it’s for?”

“Putting up with you,” he muttered. She was being playful on purpose, he knew. Whenever he was tense, she would flirt or tease or otherwise distract him from his worries. She also played these games to distract herself. He grasped her hands, pulling them away from his chest. “It will be fine, Mags.” He dared one more squeeze of her hands before dropping them. Just as her green eyes were narrowing into slits and her mouth opening to rip him for his familiarity, another voice intruded into the conversation.

“Is this parade review for all hands, Commander? Or does the Lieutenant still need his mother’s supervision of his clothing?” The captain’s typically well modulated voice morphed into a slow, sarcastic, drawl.

Maggie could tell he was uncomfortably close behind her. She looked up at Swede, but he was doing his best statue imitation. Suppressing a sigh, she pivoted. Swede really did not wish to be part of the conversation that was sure to follow. Desperate to escape, he made eye contact with the captain.

Captain Hill motioned with his head toward the lander. “You are excused, Lieutenant.” He waited until the other man left before speaking to the commander. She had been effectively sandwiched between the two taller officers and for one, brief, moment she looked panicked. Hill stored that information for later perusal.

“Well, Commander? Do I pass muster?”

Lips pinched together in irritation, O’Connell gave his uniform a cursory examination. Not a thread, decoration, button, or crease was out of place. The formal uniform was as impressive on the
Hudson’s
captain as it was on her chief engineer.

He looks damn good, and he knows it, the arrogant ass.

She tilted her chin up, wrinkled her nose and said, disdainfully, “You’ll do.”

Her pert expression was unlike that of any drill inspector the captain had ever encountered. She was wearing what he’d come to think of as her “I’d stick my tongue out at you if your back was turned” look. He surprised her, and himself, with a cheeky grin. He tipped his head forward to narrow the distance between them and asked, softly, “What’s worrying you?”

“Me, sir? Not a thing. Not a care in the world—that’s me.”

He looked down at her but she turned her head to watch Price herd the other passengers onto the lander. “Lying to your captain is a serious offense.”

She cut him a glare before turning her head back to give Dr. Ruger a big smile. “She looks nice. Remind me again why you’re letting Price fly you over there?”

“She does. You know very well why you aren’t going. Regulations state that the XO and the captain cannot both be absent from the ship during deployment.”

“Uh, huh. Regulations. Being a political figure’s daughter and thus your ace in the hole has nothing at all to do with it, then?”

He stared back at her, not even twitching his lips. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Commander.”

She stared right back. “Remind me never to play cards with you, sir.”

He flashed her another of his rare grins. “The ship is yours, Commander. Please resist the urge to perform barrel rolls.”

“Have a lovely evening, sir.”

***

The remnants of the Dremikian civilization lived out their lives on a space station that orbited the gas-giant planet of Tokria. They were so far from Dremiks that only advanced telescopes could capture pictures of their native planet. Rhyse station did not having docking facilities for a ship the size of the
Hudson
, but Lieutenant Price pulled the smaller lander into the dock with no trouble. He and the captain methodically completed their post-flight checklists before unlocking the hatches that would allow their passengers to disembark. Chancellor Trell and Vice Chancellor Hill stepped out first, where they were met by an honor guard of Dremikians. The captain followed with Dr. Ruger and Dr. Fortunas in his wake. The two lieutenants brought up the rear of the party.

All of the Dremikians in the receiving line were senior diplomats. Each wore a bizarre looking necktie of a different, vibrant, hue, made all the more absurd by their otherwise naked forms. Ambassador Dawk G’ Trujkulis stepped forward. His almond shaped head bobbed from side to side so violently that, if he’d had them, his ears would have bounced off his shoulders. Dremikians didn’t have ears, though. What they did have were comically long introductions. The Ambassador, Dwax’s father, gave way to three Senior Councilors, each with his or her own excruciatingly long speech.

Dr. Ruger couldn’t see much of this presentation. Captain Hill stood beside Chancellor Trell, who was flanked on his other side by Vice-Chancellor Hill. Behind the captain, Lieutenants Guttmann and Price were shoulder to shoulder. Dr. Fortunas, beside Price, turned his head and frowned at the tiny woman buried behind a seeming row of giants. He reached out, tugged on her hand, and inserted the doctor between himself and Price. She flashed the scientist a grateful smile, but he was already facing forward again, seemingly entranced with whatever High Councilor Drak-Dvawls was saying. The military officers remained rigidly at attention, hardly blinking. Trell occasionally shifted his weight. Standing upright for that amount of time probably wasn’t good for his over-burdened joints, Ruger reflected.

The exterior of Rhyse station looked like the conglomeration of a child’s toy jack and the worst excesses of metallic sculpture. It was hard to tell where the original six-armed structure ended and centuries of branching additions began. While the outside of the station was angular and harsh, the inside appeared warm and inviting. The floors and walls were covered in a soft coating that gave slightly, like walking in wet sand. Relative humidity several percentage points higher than they were accustomed to, made the delegation from the
Hudson
begin to sweat.

Dwax, in order to prepare for this meeting, had returned to the space station in a Dremikian craft as soon as the
Hudson
slipped into orbit around the station. He stepped forward, after the leader of the Dremikians had finished his speech, and introduced Captain Hill. The captain bowed his head in greeting, but kept his remarks brief. He was happy to yield the floor to Chancellor Trell and Ryan. The captain prided himself on his ability to maintain a calm demeanor and on rigid conformity to regulations, but he had his limits. He quickly lost patience with diplomats, politicians, and long winded speeches. He wanted to be
doing
not listening.

The only female in the Dremikian delegation moved aside and motioned for Captain Hill and his officers to follow her. The humans would not have known her gender if Dwax hadn’t informed them ahead of time. Male and female Dremikians looked exactly the same. “If the doctors wish to come as well? We will let the diplomats talk. There is a reception this way, for you and your men and doctors, if it please you, Honored Captain.”

“The chancellor and vice chancellor?” Brett spared a look over his shoulder at his brother, but Ryan was engrossed.

“They will talk, as is their way.” She clicked something in her native tongue to Dwax, who had been following along beside them. He stopped and looked distressed—or what seemed to be distress. The captain wasn’t entirely sure he’d correctly catalogued the full range of Dremikian facial expressions. Whether upset or merely nonplussed, Dwax glided away, leaving Captain Hill, lieutenants Price and Guttmann, and doctors Ruger and Fortunas, to follow Senior Councilor Dvar-Draz.

“I believe you will find this company better for talking,” their escort said as she preceded them into a room. “Honored guests, here are the finest minds of Dremikian engineering and transport. Doctor Ruger, it is my honor to direct to Dlax-Draz, premiere medicine doctor of our people.”

To the shock of the men accompanying her, Cassandra Ruger nodded once, then bobbed her head from side to side and spoke the traditional greeting of Dremiks. Dremikian language, with its dueling constants, clicks, and chirps, was incredibly difficult for humans to learn, much less perform flawlessly in front of so many strangers. Dr. Ruger smiled charmingly at her alien counterpart and immediately started chattering with him regarding the differences in physiology between their species.

Captain Hill inclined his head toward Dr. Fortunas. “Did you know she could do that?” He didn’t need to wait for an answer, because Ben’s face was still frozen in shock. “I take it you didn’t. Mind sticking close to her?”

Fortunas studied the room for a minute, and it seemed, incongruous though it was, that he was mapping out the exits. “Don’t mind at all.”

Price, hands clasped behind his back, frowned at the backs of their civilian counterparts. Guttmann voiced, in a whisper, what both the captain’s subordinates were clearly thinking. “Trouble, sir?”

Captain Hill scanned their hosts, the room, and his fellow humans. “No, but stay alert.” He turned a shockingly wide smile on Councilor Draz and listened politely to her introductions.

“I’ve never seen so many of them in one room, before,” Tony whispered to Swede.

“I’m sure they are saying the same thing about us,” the engineer muttered out of the side of his mouth. “At least we don’t have to worry with protocol about who eats what first.” They had not been offered food or drink. Edible refreshments were apparently not part of the Dremikian greeting ritual. Swede stepped sideways to avoid treading on the leg tentacles of a yellow-necktie-wearing alien who seemed to be waving his arm tentacles in greeting. “This is a bit like...”

“Like watching the spawn of fist pumping rhythm dances and octopi porn?” Tony chortled at the expression of disgust on his shipmate’s face. “Aren’t you glad we aren’t eating?”

***

On the
Hudson,
Commander O’Connell had one leg curled underneath her while her fingers tapped out a rapid rhythm on the chair arm. Ensign Chi was in engineering, while Robertson manned the communications station. Robertson seemed pouty when he reported for duty, but the commander quickly forgot about his mood. She had an entire four hour watch with the ship to herself. There were no course corrections to be made, no drones to deploy, no systems to calibrate. There was no captain around to think up new ways to keep her busy, either. She could listen to music, hum along, and generally relax.

She should have known that wasn’t going to last.

The captain’s voice cracked like a whip across coms and startled the commander into instant alertness.

“Captain?”

“Spool up the engines, Commander. I want the
Hudson
out of orbit and moving the minute we get on board.” Before she could process that command, he barked another. “Belay my last. Move the ship from orbit
now,
and we’ll dock while in transit.”

O’Connell blinked at her heads-up display as if it could give her answers. Despite her jumbled thoughts, she instinctively replied, “Aye, aye, sir.” She deftly entered commands into the drive computer while calling Chief Turner and ordering him to take over in engineering. Her mind registered the change in vibrations beneath her feet—both of which were now firmly planted on the floor.

“Ma’am, Rhyse Station wishes to know our intent.”

“Intent, Ensign?”

“Ma’am they can easily register the change in engine heat and infer…”

“We’re going walk-about.”

There was brief moment of stunned silence. “Ma’am?”

“Stretching our legs, taking the old girl out for a spin, wandering…”

“Ma’am!” This time the ensign’s exclamation sounded irritated and worried.

“I don’t give a damn what you tell them Ensign. In fact,” she leaned sideways to slap at a control at the co-pilot’s station. “Don’t tell them anything at all. Communications blackout.” While Robertson stared aghast, at her seat-back, she called Price on his implant.

“You copy me?”

“Five by. This is going to be a bit dicier than per usual.”

She hummed in agreement. “Situation?”

Price reached above his head to marginally adjust a slide lever. “Normal.”

Maggie’s breath rushed out. Situation: normal, in military parlance, was most often followed by “all fucked up”. The acronym had made its way into wider vocabulary as
SNAFU
. Price was obviously choosing his words carefully, which meant the captain was agitated but had, at least, given the lieutenant some idea why the official party had been cut short.

Lights flashed on her display, and O’Connell had to focus on getting the ship underway. She sent Chi to man the lander bay once Turner relieved him in engineering. A small Dremikian craft sped across the
Hudson’s
bow before taking up position along her port side. A quick check of the radar showed that the human ship suddenly had a small flotilla of escorts.