Ekatya had agreed to be taken to the Lancer’s transport, but she had not agreed to be strapped onto that cot like an invalid. She’d had enough of lying around, and if she was going to be flown to a medical center, she would damn well arrive upright, a captain seeing to her crew. It hadn’t been difficult to convince the Alsean doctors of her intent. As Commander Baldassar had said, they just seemed to know. One of them even came up with a pair of recognizable crutches, which she gratefully accepted. The moment her personal swarm of medical attendants left her alone—or as alone as one got with a heavily armed soldier standing watch—she made her way into the bathroom one of them had pointed out and treated herself to the unbelievable luxury of an empty bladder and clean hands. It took a minute to figure out how to operate the tiny waterfall that served as a faucet, but some things seemed to be universal.
The guard didn’t stop her when she crutched out the door and back down the ramp, though he did follow her as far as the door. Trying to ignore the eyes on her back, she stopped at the bottom of the ramp and gazed up at her broken ship.
She should probably be feeling more heartbroken about its destruction. Certainly the light of day had not made things look any better, and she really was shocked about the damage to the hullskin. But after the battle, the crash, and the long hours of certainty that she’d lost more than she could stand, the sight of a grounded ship was no longer the stuff of her nightmares.
Of course, that just meant she’d set a higher bar for nightmares.
The now-familiar sound of a transport’s engines caught her attention. Lhyn and her rescuers had emerged on the starboard side of the Caphenon, and Ekatya hadn’t been able to see it. Now she felt her whole body settle as the transport appeared over the top of the ship and arced toward her. Everyone was out. She could move on.
The tiny transport landed just forty meters away, and she gave serious thought to crutching over to it. She might have done it, too, if a uniformed body hadn’t appeared in front of her. She looked up, seeing now-familiar features. Blonde hair held back in a clip, a chiseled profile accentuated by narrow ridges running the length of the cheekbones, and the three slim forehead ridges—one vertical, the other two arching toward opposite sides of the hairline—that were unlike anything she’d seen on a Gaian race.
“Right, of course you’d want to be here when she arrives,” she said grumpily. Lhyn’s return meant the return of communications. It meant questions and answers, and she had the feeling that Lancer Tal was not a woman willing to wait for answers any longer than she had to. But dammit, she’d wanted a moment with Lhyn all to herself.
The Lancer tilted her head, those intelligent ice-blue eyes missing nothing. Somehow Ekatya suspected the woman knew what she’d just said, even without a common language. Ashamed, she said, “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
Lancer Tal nodded and stepped over, standing at her side as they watched the transport ramp come down. They were almost the same height, and Ekatya wondered if the Lancer also had to deal with being prejudged for her shorter stature.
In her peripheral vision she saw another Alsean arrive, that tank of a man who never seemed to be far from the Lancer. With his stubbly hair and barrel chest, he looked like a recruitment poster for the Ground Warfare division of Fleet. He took up a post next to Lancer Tal and waited with them.
A stretcher emerged from the rescue transport, carried by two uniformed Alseans. Lhyn was sitting upright on it, her right arm in a sling that was securely taped to her chest. Even from here, Ekatya could see the dirt and grime on her face, which made her smile flash all the brighter.
“Broken in four places,” she called as they carried her closer. “But holy Shippers, these drugs are good!”
Ekatya’s first sight of a safe, whole Lhyn nearly cracked her composure, but at this she had to laugh. “I know. I’ve already experienced them. Mine knocked me out; why are you so bright and cheery?”
“Maybe because I was already knocked out earlier.” Lhyn’s smile faded. “I am so glad to see you.”
Her rescuers stopped in front of them and let down the stretcher’s supports, making sure it was stable in the dirt before one of them helped her off. She gave him a smile and what was surely a thank-you, earning two wide grins in response. Ekatya made a mental note to learn that word as soon as possible.
As the medics packed up their stretcher and prepared to leave, Lhyn addressed Lancer Tal and held up her good hand, palm outward. All of the Alseans seemed surprised by this, but Lancer Tal smiled and touched her own hand to Lhyn’s, speaking in what sounded like admiring tones. Then she introduced the man next to her, who touched Lhyn’s palm without hesitation.
Turning back to Ekatya, Lhyn said, “I hear you’ve already met the Lancer, though Lieutenant Candini said it wasn’t exactly formal. So let me introduce you to Lancer Andira Tal and her Chief Guardian, Colonel Corozen Micah. They don’t shake hands here, they touch their palms together. Just one, because you’re not family.”
“I’m pleased to officially meet you this time,” Ekatya said, holding up her hand. “Our first meeting wasn’t how I prefer to do these things.”
Lhyn translated, and both the Lancer and Colonel Micah smiled at her as they touched palms. Lancer Tal spoke at greater length and then waited, her eyes never leaving Ekatya’s.
“She said we have a little while yet, because Lieutenant Candini and the Alseans who pulled me out of there are still climbing down the ladder. They offered to airlift Candini out, but she refused.”
Ekatya snorted. “Of course she did.”
“You have no room to speak, Ekatya. I heard something about you climbing down twenty decks with a broken leg. Not to mention walking the entire length of the skirt to the bow.”
“I didn’t actually walk down the skirt. It was more like Candini and Baldassar carried me and put me down every few steps.”
Lhyn gave her a look of fond exasperation. “Yes, that makes it so much better. Anyway, we’re invited to wait, and to travel, in the Lancer’s personal cabin. I think that means a special cabin in her transport. They don’t call them shuttles.”
“That much I’ve figured out. And what would you do if I said no thank you?”
“Don’t you dare!” Lhyn’s look of horror faded into understanding. “It’s not nice to tease the injured anthropologist.”
“You’re right. Put it down to the injured captain not being her usual diplomatic self. Please tell Lancer Tal that I’m grateful for the offer.”
A flurry of Alsean conversation resulted in Lancer Tal leading the way up the ramp, followed by Ekatya and Lhyn, with the colonel bringing up the rear.
“There’s a nice bathroom here if you haven’t had the chance yet,” Ekatya said. “And judging by your face, you haven’t had the chance.”
“Oh, thank the stars.” Lhyn wasted no time asking their hosts, who stopped and pointed the way, with the colonel going so far as to show her how to open the door. That left Ekatya standing in awkward silence with them, wondering how Lhyn was managing with only one functioning arm.
She got her answer when Lhyn opened the door. “Ekatya? Um…would you mind helping me wash up?”
Glad for an excuse to see her alone, Ekatya hastened to help out. Lhyn held up a wet hand as she approached and said, “Turns out it’s hard to clean one of these when you don’t have anything to scrub it against.”
“You’re in for a rough few weeks,” Ekatya said as she wet down a soft cloth.
“Not necessarily. Their medtech is pretty advanced, from what I’ve been able to observe.”
“That’s good to hear, since I have three crew members in their hands right now who need a lot of help.”
She worked in silence for the next few minutes, getting Lhyn’s hands clean and then moving to her face. As she carefully wiped off the dirt and smudges, Lhyn said, “I’m so sorry about the fatalities.”
Ekatya paused, meeting her eyes, then resumed her work. “I don’t even know who one of them is. I’ve got two dead crew members and only one name.”
“We’ll figure it out. But you know you did the right thing.”
She did. It wasn’t even a question. But why did doing the right thing always seem to cost so much?
With one last gentle wipe of the cloth, she leaned in to place a soft kiss on Lhyn’s lips. Resting their foreheads together, she whispered, “I am so mad at you right now.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I had to stay with you.”
“Do you know what I’ve been going through, imagining them finding you in pieces?”
“Probably the same thing I went through, lying there with no idea of who survived and whether anyone was left to find me—or whether it mattered.”
Ekatya pulled back. “It always matters.”
“Not without you. One year was already a test of my endurance, and that was knowing I’d see you again at the end of it. Forever? That’s outside my tolerance.”
“Mine too,” Ekatya admitted. She wanted to hold her, but the arm made it impossible, so she settled for another kiss instead. “We should probably get back out there, much as I don’t want to face that woman again.”
“Lancer Tal?” Lhyn asked in a surprised tone. “Why not? Hasn’t she been taking care of you and everyone else?”
“Yes, and that’s the problem. She’s too nice. Nobody is that nice, especially the leader of a pre-FTL world government who has just been confronted by aliens.” Seeing Lhyn’s frown, she added, “I know, you think she’s an admirable leader. But I’m telling you, there’s something off there. She doesn’t act like she has the best interests of her world at heart. She acts like she has our best interests at heart, and that’s just not how it works.”
“Let me get this straight. She’s giving you the wiggles because she’s not suspicious enough?”
“Yes!”
Lhyn chuckled. “You are such a Fleeter. Maybe she’s just exactly what she seems.”
“Nobody is exactly what they seem. Except you.”
“I’m hardly unique.”
“Of course you are. Why do you think I—”
A rap on the door startled them both, followed by a short stream of Alsean in a deep masculine voice.
“Colonel Micah says they need to speak with us when we’re ready,” said Lhyn.
“Then I guess we’re ready.” Ekatya picked up her crutches, tucked them beneath her arms, and tapped the door’s control panel.
They rejoined their hosts and were led across the front of the main cabin and down a short corridor, where the Lancer touched her palm to a biometric lock. Silently the door slid open and she stepped in, indicating the chairs on the far side of a small conference table.
Ekatya was impressed. The private cabin was in fact a sort of combined office and living quarters, lit by large windows from one end to the other. The polished wood conference table was directly in front of the door, surrounded by six chairs, and against the forward bulkhead was what looked like a pull-down desk made from the same wood. In the aft section of the room was an arrangement of four wide, luxurious-looking seats in two facing rows, snugged against the panoramic windows. The bulkhead behind them was wall-to-wall drawers and cupboards. Like the main cabin, the entire ceiling was transparent, giving the room a light and spacious feel. Looking up at her once-proud ship looming overhead, shattered and dead, she could have wished for an opaque ceiling instead.
She followed Lhyn around the conference table and waited as she pulled out a chair, noting curiously that it locked into a set of slides.
“Clever,” Lhyn commented, accepting Ekatya’s crutches and watching her maneuver into her seat. “Must be for conferences during flight.”
“This whole room is cleverly designed.” Ekatya took the crutches back, leaned them against the table, and relaxed into her chair. Now she was facing the interior bulkhead, which was just as efficient and attractive as the rest. Aft of the door was a waist-high preparation cabinet, complete with plates and glasses in wooden racks. Next to it was a sink, and beyond that was some sort of large cabinet. A food storage unit, she guessed, and was soon proven correct when Colonel Micah moved to it and began pulling out water flasks.
Lancer Tal took the flasks from him and handed them around the table, considerately opening Lhyn’s for her. She chose a seat directly across from Ekatya, while the colonel set a tray of some sort of fruits in the center of the table and took his own seat next to the Lancer.
“Captain Serrado,” said Lancer Tal, carefully enunciating the Common word for “captain.” With a serious expression, she spoke in measured tones and waited for Lhyn to translate.
“She said—” Lhyn stopped, a look of such sad understanding on her face that Ekatya needed no further explanation.
“So that’s three?”
Lhyn nodded.
When she could trust her voice, she asked, “Do we know who it is? Who they are?”
The Lancer gave a one-word answer to this question while pulling a transparent cylindrical device from a pouch on her belt. When she unrolled it on the table and tapped it, the device stiffened into a flat sheet, showing data on its now-opaque surface. After tapping it a few more times, she turned it around and slid it across the table.
Ekatya picked it up and immediately saw Commander Baldassar’s hand in this. Somehow, he’d not only found out everyone’s status at the healing center, but had also managed to convince an Alsean to let him send this image of his handwritten report. The words stared up at her, damning in their simplicity.
Fatalities: Trooper 1C Cuthbroad, Ensign O’Sullivan, Trooper 3C Shelley
Casualties, critical condition: Lieutenant Hmongyon, Trooper 2C Mauji Mauji
Casualties, stable: Trooper 2C Blunt, Trooper 2C Ennserhofen, Commander Kameha, Warrant Officer Roris, Trooper 1C Torado, Trooper 1C Xi
She wanted to throw the device against the nearest bulkhead. She wanted to shatter those names into pieces, so that they wouldn’t be true. For a moment her fingers tightened their hold, but then she made herself set it down and push it toward the Lancer. Without meeting anyone’s eyes, she opened her flask of water and drank, closed it again, set it back on the table, and finally looked up.
“Thank you,” she said. “For understanding how much I needed that information.”
Lhyn translated in a subdued voice. Lancer Tal dipped her head in acknowledgment, then spoke at some length.
“She said it was Trooper Shelley who died in the healing center. She’d lost too much blood. The Alsean healers feel terrible about it, because they could have saved her if they’d been able to replace the blood. But Alsean blood isn’t compatible, and of the crew members at the center, only two were a match. She said you might like to know that those crew members volunteered as much of their blood as Trooper Shelley needed, but…it couldn’t have been done safely. The loss was too great and the healers would not risk more lives.”
Ekatya closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And we have hundreds of liters of blood sitting there in our medbay. Dammit!” She looked at Lhyn. “Would it be worth it to go back in there and bring some out? Lieutenant Hmongyon and Trooper Mauji Mauji, the ones still in critical condition, are they at risk because of blood loss?”
She waited for the translations, chafing at her limitations. The sooner Lieutenant Candini got back with that translator, the better. Lhyn was good, but the translator’s near-simultaneous capability was so much faster.
“She said they’ve already done transfusions and it should be enough. Perhaps later we can look into returning for other supplies, but for now she doesn’t think the risk is necessary.”
And what if you’re wrong? Ekatya wanted to ask. It’s not your people in danger of dying!
But of course it was. Lancer Tal had already put her own people at risk, rescuing the Caphenon’s crew in what had turned into a massive operation. And she had done it in response to a simple request, without asking any questions other than how many crew were aboard. No matter how unfathomable this seemed, or what ulterior motives she might have, these were facts Ekatya couldn’t deny.
She had promised answers in exchange. Answers she hadn’t yet given, and the Lancer hadn’t yet pressed her. It was time to get out in front of this and act like a captain instead of a patient. First rule of diplomacy: Never make someone ask you for what you’ve already offered.
“If my crew is safe, then I believe I owe you some answers,” she said. “And I’d guess your first questions would be, who are we and why are we here?”
Lhyn translated, then looked surprised at the response.
“What?” Ekatya asked.
“She said yes, those are her first two questions, and her third and fourth are, who was in the other ship and why were we fighting?”
Ekatya must have looked as surprised as Lhyn, because the Lancer smiled and spoke again.
“Ah,” Lhyn said. “They know the damage on the starboard side isn’t all from the crash, and they detected the explosion of the orbital invader. I told you they weren’t backward, Ekatya. You Fleeters always think that if a world doesn’t have FTL capability, they must be two steps away from cave art.”
“I don’t think that. How could I, with you to set me straight?” There had been so many discussions about that, with Lhyn getting predictably impassioned as she defended the complexities of the cultures she studied. Ekatya called it “pounding her lectern,” a phrase guaranteed to rile Lhyn up.
“Good to know I had some success,” Lhyn said. “Shall I tell them, or do you want me to translate for you?”
Ekatya felt weary at the mere thought of trying to explain so much via translator. “You tell them. Just keep me apprised now and then of what you’re saying so I can keep up.”
“What are my limits?”
“Make it a full debriefing.” At Lhyn’s intake of breath, she added, “We just crashed a ship on their planet. Their technological and social evolution have already been disrupted. At this point, the Non-Interference Act has gone out the airlock.”
“You’re sure?”
At her nod, Lhyn flashed a grin that seemed entirely inappropriate for the moment. But Ekatya understood. She’d just taken the restraints off, and Lhyn was free not to only tell, but more importantly, to ask. She expected there would be a lot of asking, possibly even more than Lancer Tal could handle without losing that calm reserve of hers.
As Lhyn began to speak, Ekatya reached for the fruit tray. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten. Settling back in her chair, she listened to the musical sound of the Alsean words and watched her hosts’ body language. This, at least, was a language she could understand.