This Starry Deep (16 page)

Chapter 27 - Meanwhile

ONE SMALL SHIP dodged and spun in the blackness. It drifted between the wreckage of the
Washburne
and the ongoing battle approaching Trasker Four. The acting ship’s pilot worked to keep as clear of everything going on as she could.

Her navigator spotted the life pods that shot out of the
Washburne
before they’d even showed up. He would spot them and find coordinates for Bee. She would maneuver the ship as best she could, the controls never quite feeling comfortable under her hands, and pull up alongside them.

The non-specialized crew would manage the airlock matching and pull people from the escape pod into ship, then seal everything up again so they could continue on their way, looking for the next pod.

They focused on the damaged units first. There was no way, they each knew, that they could hope to hold everyone. So they prioritized as best they could, without proper, full scans, and saved who they could.

They did their best. Not only for themselves, so they could sleep at night and not see the demons of dead, the floating bodies dancing before their eyes, but for their leader, though he wasn’t present. He’d brought them together and treated them as a compliment under his command, as a team, and they wanted to live up to that.

The last thing any of the four wanted was for him to return and be disappointed in their progress, considering how hard he had worked himself to save what they held dear. So they flew carefully, trying to stay off the sensor arrays of anyone on either side at first, and picked up the people they could.

None of their rescues went as planned, of course. They considered themselves a team but did not act like one. Worse yet, they knew it, and saw the gulf between what they expected and were doing, letting the frustration gnaw at them.

Their inability to work together combined with their inability to work with a defined military presence and protocol. The frustration levels rose, and rose yet again until in-fighting broke out amongst the crew. That lasted exactly as long as it took for them to find another pod that needed their help. The work centered them and reminded them of who they were and what they were doing.

Through it all, the saved crew members of the
Washburne
stood watching, silent. They’d been surprised by the attack and subsequent destruction of their ship, their home while on duty. Adding emotional insult to injury was the rescue from damaged escape pods by a ship full of non-combatants, who were also utterly unequipped to handle the ship they flew. So the tattered remnants of the
Washburne
crew found themselves incapable of doing anything to help or hinder. Confusion made them mute, and shock made them not care about the confusion.

All told, this strange, underpowered, and under-coordinated ship made a difference despite itself. Its crew, as well, made a difference to each other, and by the time the military envoys contacted them to take them out of active rescue duty, they had become something of the team they thought they could be. Not proven in many ways, but established in their heads and instincts as a unit of people who could work together and gave a damn.

They retreated, following orders, along a vector to allow them visual inspection of the edge of the battle, where they could relay data to the fighter squadron. They knew, instantly, the job was busy work to keep them out of danger but was also necessary. They would each help, as best they could, and ready themselves for whatever might come.

Chapter 28 - Jonah

I CAME TO IN A CELL - hardly the first time that’s happened. Each and every time, I still feel it’s better than being dead. So that was a point in my favor. Alive I could escape, fight, change the outcome. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

They’d left my thinsuit on me, but emptied all my pockets and taken my GravPack and gun. Fair enough as far as it went. The cell itself was an odd brown, not the normal flat grays of the metals humans tend to use. The walls felt like a metal, though, and hummed with the ever-present motion of the engines.

I’d come to on a cot, one far longer than a normal human would use. These guys must range tall. The bars along the front of the cell (bars seemed to be a universal truth of jails) were spaced slimmer than most. So tall and thin, check. I could at least use my time here to learn about them.

The room beyond my cell turned colors as it went. Starting with the browns of my cell interior, the floor and walls faded to brighter colors as the room went on. Everything was fresh and lush, visually. These weren’t a people who wanted to live in a drab ship. Like the exterior of their fighters, they’d gone for something festive. No, that didn’t feel like the right answer. It clicked when the guards came into view.

Tall and thin, as the cell suggested, they wore helmets with long beaks and a line of feathers along the crest. Bird people. The walls weren’t festive - they were a form of plumage. For someone of their species, the color patterns must signal something primal, a power and purpose.

Their boots were shaped to conform to the feet of a bird, with three clawed toes forward and one back for grabbing and rending. I couldn’t tell what the boots were made of, but it appeared to be something sturdy, as did the rest of their outfits: brightly colored pants and jackets, with what looked like protective sheathing over small underarm wings, connecting the arm below the elbow to the upper chest.

Bird people. I’d never even heard of bird people, not really. You hear stories, in the service, but there was no extant race of them around. Except, it would seem, these guys.

“Hey,” I called out, hoping they had translators of some sort. If you’re going to attack countless planets, it helped to be able to understand when they yelled out for backup.

One of the two guards that stood at the other side of the room looked over. The eye pieces of his helmet glowed red. The beak was fixed, closed, and came to a deadly sharp point on the downturn.

He studied me for a few and then turned back to his friend and they talked, softly. Too soft for me to hear. I tried again, “Listen, guys, take me to your leader?” Nothing. Or so I thought at first. One of the guards left and the other turned and kept me in his sight line.

So I stood still, facing him, arms at my side, refusing to be threatening. I wanted out. If it took playing nice to get them to let me out, that’d be far easier than breaking out, and worth a shot.

The first guard, or at least, I think it was him - hard to tell with the head-to-toe getup - came back. He conferred with the second and then they both came over to me. I took a respectful, slow step back from the bars and waited.

The second guard started to fiddle with a part of my cell door, and, as they unlocked it, I realized I had a good chance here. They didn’t know who I was or what I could do. But they’d know humans, some. That’s why they’d been picking people up - for study, to see what we were and how best to deal with us - on every planet they’d attacked.

Which meant they knew my age, from the sight of me, or at least that I was older than many. I decided to play up my bad knee for them. I limped as I walked forward, following their gesture. Not a bad limp, but enough to make them think I wasn’t too steady on my feet. I wanted a look under one of those helmets: I wanted to look one of them in the eye before this went further.

Call it stupid, but I feel I can gain a lot from looking into the eyes of an enemy, and that’s what these guys were - my enemy. They’d taken Shae, killed whole planets, and cost a lot of good soldiers their lives. I’d play the beaten and supple prisoner for them for a little while, but I never intended to forget exactly what they’d done.

We started down a long hallway, one guard in front and one behind me. They didn’t prod me when I kept the limp up, allowing me to go at a speed that worked for my leg. Perfect, they’d bought it. Now for the second, harder part. The floor was smooth and even, but with my supposed limp to help, I stumbled and flailed. The guard behind me caught me and helped me upright again, not hurting me or even threatening to.

We turned a corner and I stumbled again, further this time, flailing like a mad man until I caught the guard in front in his back. He stumbled with me and I wrapped an arm around his helmet, hooking my elbow under the beak, careful to not slice myself open, and let my weight torque us over, ripping the mask free.

I expected to see a bird face glaring at me, as we laid on the floor for the three seconds before the second guard helped me back up, less gentle this time. Instead I saw green and brown scales, slit eyes, and flat nostrils. These weren’t birds, they were lizards. I tried to not let my surprise show, to not give anything away, but that took shutting my now-slack jaw.

When we started to move again, the rear guard kept a clawed hand on my shoulder. Fine, I’d learned something and that’d do for now. I walked, easing off the fake limp but not dropping it completely - why throw away a good advantage?

We came to a large set of doors with guards posted outside. The door guards conferred with their compatriots and opened the set of doors slowly. Inside was a large hall. A meeting space, or possibly a recreation hall. Either way, the decoration spoke volumes about them. Birdlike designs dominated, but the figures depicted were lizard-like as often as not. Idealized murals of their ships and their pilots ran the length of the space.

At the opposite end of the room was a being draped in a winged and feathered cloak, his scaled, shortened head seeming drab and small above it. My request to see their leader had come through. I thought back, and was pretty sure that line had never worked before. Probably wouldn’t again, either. But you take opportunity when it lands on your porch, and this was that.

They walked me close to the throne the leader sat in, pushing me down to my knees a good ten feet away from him. The claws on my shoulder stayed there. Even knelt, they wouldn’t take any chances at this stage. I didn’t blame them.

“Who,” he began in thick halting English, his voice croaking out each word, “are—”

“Where. Is. My. Wife?” I spat out each word as its own curse. My chin up, eyes locked with his. I didn’t care one whit about their plans. What they wanted with me didn’t matter. But they’d give up Shae, if nothing else.

“What is this wife you inquire about?” he asked me, brow furrowing in what seemed to be confusion. No reason to trust him, though.

“Nice. Where is she? Tell me now, let her go, and I won’t have to send this entire ship down in flames.” I admit, this was as far as my plan took me. Get on board. Find out about Shae. Get out.

Certain people might argue with my tactics, thinking that starting right off into threats wouldn’t help my cause. But they’re only threats if you can’t carry though. When it came to Shae, I’d burn the galaxy down. Details of how didn’t factor in. I would. Simple as that.

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

I sighed in frustration, “Yes, we all look the same. While you were scouting Earth. Earth? Remember it?”

“No. We do not know of this planet.”

“Do you know Trasker Four?” I asked, forcing myself to stay on my knees and not fight the guard holding me down. I could think of six ways to get up and free, and only one of them would maim the guard for life. Regardless, I waited.

“Yes, the planet we are currently being forced to harvest.” The note of sadness in his voice was either a great bit of acting or I had no idea what was actually going on here. I didn’t think he could act quite that well in a language he wasn’t that familiar with.

“Wait,” I said, “who’s forcing you to level a planet? Another planet, mind you. This isn’t the first, and eventually your path will take you to Earth. And it needs to stop.”

“And yet it cannot,” he said, “must not, in fact, for our own survival. Regrettable but necessary.”

“You would kill whole planets of people for your own survival? Not even try to find a different way?”

“There has never been another way. Would you not do what is needed to survive? So that your people could? Didn’t you come in here, threatening me, despite knowing I could simply have you killed, to save this one you call wife?”

“Stop talking in questions. Just explain to me why you’re doing what you’re doing.”

“First,” he said, raising a finger to make the point, “you must explain to me who you are and why you tried to sneak aboard our vessel in such a manner.”

I tried to stand and the hand on my shoulder pushed back against me. So I grabbed his thumb and wrenched it back, feeling it dislocate. His shock left him unprepared for my kick to his ankle. He went down, I came up.

I stood, unmoving, while the guards in the room circled me. No attack from me, I just needed to prove a point. I brought my hands up in front of me, palms toward the leader, to show I was unarmed and uninterested in fighting. He gave me a look, one of understanding, it seemed, exactly the point I’d made.

“My name is Jonah, and you are attacking my people,” I said, not even looking at the guards around me, focusing my attention solely on their leader. “And I am a member of the forces trying to stop the slaughter. I wanted information and I had a feeling someone on this ship - you, I think now - could provide it. Also, you have my wife.” I bared my teeth in a cruel grin. “And this is the last time I intend to ask nicely for her back, unharmed.”

“Stand down,” he commanded the guards, I could guess from their reaction, in his own language. “Not many of us know your language at all,” he told me, “apologies. My name is Tslakog. Once again, we do not have this wife you request. We have no prisoners, nor have we been to this Earth you speak of. I do, however, understand your actions. We would do no less. However, I also feel that if you knew of our problem, you would not judge us as harshly as you currently do.”

I laughed. Right in his face. His guards bristled but didn’t make a move toward me. “So you want me to believe you don’t have Shae, and you want me to listen to your supposed tale of genocidal woe?”

“I will be happy to allow you, escorted of course, to explore every inch of this ship looking for the one you seek,” he said.

“Which wouldn’t prove anything.”

“Then what would?” he asked me. It was a good question. What would prove it? I could search the ship but they could move her. Hell, they could have her in a different ship anyway. Or have just spaced her.

“Let me explain our predicament, then,” Tslakog continued, “and afterward we can continue the discussion of these whereabouts.”

“Giving you time to—”

“Yes, yes,” he said, his voice growing an edge, “we can go in circles on this all day. I know of no way to convince you, and by your silence, you cannot think of one either. So these, then, are your choices. You can try to take this ship by force, alone and weaponless. I gather you would get fairly far, but we both know you would die here without ever finding this person you seek—”

“My wife.”

“Just so. Or you can choose to trust me, just enough to listen and resume this core concern after understanding has been achieved.”

“Go on, then.”

“Let us walk,” he said, standing.

“You trust me to not make a break for it and cripple the ship along the way?”

“No, I trust my guards to kill you should you try.”

I was starting to like this guy.