“To think it looked big from the transport,” Micah said quietly.
Tal nodded, equally overwhelmed. Seeing this behemoth from mere strides away made its size almost beyond comprehension. The rounded base they were parked next to was the smallest section of the ship, but even it was more than half as tall as the State House. And while she couldn’t see the height of the flat section they were now moving under, or the dome above it, she’d noted their proportions earlier. The flat section was half the height of the base, and the dome on top looked to be about twice as high.
“I think we could fit two State Houses in it, stacked one on top of the other,” she marveled. There wasn’t a building on the planet that could compare.
“Fahla grant that these aliens are friendly. Because if they aren’t, we haven’t the chance of a fanten at the slaughter.”
The remaining Guards had formed a tight group around her and Micah as they ran toward the bow. In theory, the Guards were protecting them in the center, but she was constantly aware of the ship’s flat plane directly over their heads. At any moment a port might open to reveal a weapon-wielding alien, and then they’d all be perfect targets regardless of formation. But Gehrain’s order to form ranks fulfilled a psychological need, giving her Guards something to hold on to when nothing else was certain.
Nor was she immune to that need. Where the transport had landed, the grain was broken and flattened by the last sprays of soil the ship had flung out as it slid to a halt. Beyond that, the field was untouched, and she felt safer the moment they moved into the tall grain. Of course the impression of refuge was wishful thinking; the plants wouldn’t stop anything the aliens threw at them, including dirt clods. That didn’t keep her from crouching as she ran, making certain that her head was below the level of the grain.
The leading Guards stopped just short of where the bottom edge of the ship’s flat section rested on the ground. Tal straightened and walked past them, staring at the hull so close over her head. Then she reached up to touch it.
“What are you doing?” Micah whispered furiously. He’d followed her and now stood with his head bent, carefully avoiding any contact with the hull.
“It’s warm.” She ran her fingertips along it, fascinated by the heat and the soft feel of the material. “And spongy. Almost as if it’s alive.”
“It did just come through our atmosphere.” Gehrain had joined them. “That’s probably friction heat.”
“Still?” She dropped her hand. “It would have cooled off during the descent through the lower atmosphere, and it’s been sitting here for almost half a hantick. I don’t think it’s friction heat.”
She smiled when both of them reached up to feel for themselves. True, she’d been less than prudent, but who could resist touching the first alien ship in Alsean history?
They looked at each other, then back at her, their eyes wide. Micah rubbed his fingers together. “Remarkable.”
Gehrain said nothing, but reached up and touched it again.
Tal watched them while she tapped her earcuff and called their sniper. “Nilsinian, what are they doing?”
“Still climbing down. They’re almost to the flat section, but the one in the middle is moving slower than before. There’s no movement anywhere else, or any other hatches that we can see on this side.”
“Windenal, anything on the back side?”
“No, Lancer.”
“Parksor?”
“Nothing over here either.”
“All right, this is where we split up,” she said, leaving the com open so the others could hear. “Colonel Micah and I will stay next to the ship, just in sight of the ladder. Senshalon and Basaltin, you do the same on the other side. The rest of you, head straight out into the field until you have the aliens in view. Since we have no idea whether we’re safer by the ship or out there, we’ll divide the leadership.”
“Understood,” Gehrain said. If she and Micah were taken out, at least the other Guards could still look to him.
“You’ll see them long before we will,” she told him, “so keep us updated if anything changes. Everyone in silent mode starting now.” She tapped her wristcom and confirmed the setting. From now on, any transmission sent via earcuff would be transcribed into text before being distributed to their wristcom screens.
A hand gesture sent Senshalon and Basaltin jogging away, and Tal led the rest as they edged around the massive bow of the ship. She could not get over the size of this thing. The flat part had seemed so narrow when viewed from a distance—and it was, compared to the domed sections. But for this ship, “narrow” translated to five or six stories high.
When they reached a point where the ladder was in view, Gehrain and the sixteen remaining Guards ran crouching into the open field. They were lost to normal sight moments later, safely invisible in the grain. Of course, if the aliens had thermal imaging devices, all bets were off. And why wouldn’t they? She slipped on her own thermal imaging glasses and shook her head.
Micah leaned back against the ship, holding his rifle to his chest, while Tal watched the heat signatures of her Guards going deeper and deeper into the field. When they stopped she whispered, “Gehrain, status.”
Their wristcoms vibrated with the answer.
They’re halfway down the flat section. The middle one is being supported by the other two and seems worse than before. Still no visible weapons.
Taking off her thermal glasses, she set her back against the ship and waited. A grainbird called from somewhere out in the field, living up to its reputation of not knowing whether it was day or night. The grainstems rustled against each other in a slight breeze, and the air was full of the scent of churned soil and crushed grain. It was surreal: every scent and sound around her was perfectly normal for a harvest night in late summer, but an alien ship was warm against her back and Fahla only knew what was about to appear on that ladder.
The waiting was by far the hardest part, making her hyperaware of everything, so at first she thought it was her imagination when she began to sense the aliens. Then her wristcom vibrated with a message from Gehrain, who was farther away but had direct line of sight.
Are you feeling them?
“Yes,” she whispered. It was growing stronger with every piptick.
Micah met her eyes, and she leaned over to put her lips next to his ear. “They’re broadcasting. Every emotion they’re feeling is on the wind. They’re like…like children, Micah. They have no fronts at all.”
Every one of her Guards had above-average empathic strength, with Gehrain being the strongest. Micah was the one exception, but he had other skills to compensate. Now he looked at her expectantly. “And?”
“And they’re hurt and frightened.”
“I like that better than aggressive. But it still may not be good. Fear can drive unexpected actions.”
As time passed and the aliens moved closer, their emotions grew so strong that Tal began to feel pressured under their weight. But she would not raise her blocks, and she knew Gehrain wouldn’t either. This was an unforeseen advantage and they’d be fools to give it up, no matter how uncomfortable it was.
Her wristcom vibrated.
They’re almost to the edge.
Micah turned and braced himself against the ship while Tal stood behind him, both of them holding their rifles low.
She heard the scraping before she saw a pair of boots appear over the edge, reaching down for the nearest rung. Once it found purchase, the alien quickly stepped down to the next rung and then stopped, its upper body still leaned over the top. More scraping sounds drifted down, and another pair of legs pushed straight out into the air while the first alien stepped down one more rung, now fully in view as it held on to its companion’s legs and guided them to the first rung. After a short struggle, the middle alien managed the transition between the flat plane and the vertical ladder. It rested for a moment before starting down, the hops from one rung to the next far more labored than they’d been when Tal had watched from her transport.
As soon as the second alien cleared the edge, the third appeared. And if Tal was correct in her separation of their emotions, the ones above and below were becoming increasingly distressed in their concern for the injured one.
“The middle one is their leader,” she whispered.
Micah nodded without taking his eyes off of them. “Or else someone of rank that they’re sworn to protect. But it’s strange that none of them have looked around. Surely they saw the transport come back.”
“They know we’re here. But their fear…I don’t think it’s because of us. I think it’s for each other.”
The first alien went down two rungs, stopped to hold the middle one’s injured leg steady through its next two hops, then rushed down two more rungs and stopped to help again. In this painful way they slowly closed the distance to the ground.
The first alien jumped the final rungs, standing with the grain reaching to its waist. That meant it was taller than Tal, but shorter than Micah. Still it did not turn to acknowledge them, instead helping the middle one through its final hops. Upon reaching the ground, the injured alien paused, resting its forehead on the nearest rung.
Tal was swamped by a wave of exhausted pain, as if the alien had refused to allow itself to feel until that very moment. This was swiftly followed by determination when the alien lifted its head again and turned, leaning on its companion as they both faced the grain field. The third alien hurried down the last few rungs to take up a protective post on the other side.
Their faces were startling for their very familiarity. Except…Tal looked more closely. It was hard to tell from this distance, but she thought their faces were smooth. If they had no facial ridges, perhaps that might explain their lack of fronting. And if they were as close to Alsean physiology as they looked, then the two on the right were female and the one on the left was male. They showed noticeable sexual dimorphism, with the two females being considerably shorter and less bulky than the male.
Her line of thought was interrupted when the middle alien reached into her clothing and pulled out a small, square device. Micah tensed in front of her, shifting his grip on his rifle.
The alien paused, then said something to her companions. Slowly, the other two raised their hands to shoulder level, palms outward. It was clearly meant to be a sign of nonviolent intent, and indeed Tal felt no threat from them.
But then the injured alien held the device aloft.
Micah’s rifle snapped to his shoulder and seventeen Guards stood erect in the grain, their rifles aimed and ready. On the other side of the aliens, Senshalon and Basaltin were aiming their weapons as well.
Death stood in the field, a hair’s breadth away from feasting.
“Hold!” Tal shouted, pushing Micah’s rifle down as she stepped past him. “Weapons down, fingers onside!”
The aliens had turned toward her voice, and the wave of fear she felt from the leader nearly weakened her knees. But it wasn’t for the alien’s own safety; it was directed toward the ship. She was frantic for the survival of her shipmates still inside.
The alien spoke. Though her language was incomprehensible, the words that issued from the device a piptick later were not. In a slightly mechanical but still feminine voice, it said: “Please do not harm us. We mean no harm to you.”
The shock she saw on Micah’s face echoed her own. That device had spoken perfect High Alsean. The mechanical accent was a little odd, but if Tal weren’t looking straight at a trio of aliens, she’d have thought she was hearing someone on the Council floor.
The alien spoke again, and the mechanical voice politely said, “We have injured inside, none of whom are able to descend this ladder. We must ask for your medical assistance.” It paused while the alien spoke, then resumed: “My name is Captain Ekatya Serrado, and I respectfully request an audience with Lancer Andira Tal.”