part0035

Worlds had been obliterated while Midge Marlin watched. She had participated in despicable acts against the Backworlds, all in the name of the salvation of her people. Witnessing the brutality of the Quassers jolted her senses, her perspective on the order of existence, her idea of morality. Her fists balled.

“What right do they have?” she whispered, barely noticing the Olvis Deluxe had escaped the ice and floated above the destruction.

“They think they is the top of evolution. No species is better, so the galaxy belongs to them.” Dactyl crawled across the floor to the limp Tria. His wide fingers gently brushed along the curve of her cheek. “We isn’t much better. Us humans. We try ‘n kill each other, doing the aliens’ job for it.”

Midge knelt beside him, checking over Tria, whose chrome complexion had an ashy quality. Ragged breaths wheezed in and out of her lungs too rapid and shallow for ease. She couldn’t die. With only six crew members on the elite squad, and the only team to have any effect on the Quassers, no one could be lost. Especially Tria and Dactyl with their special connections to the Quassers.

Nothing else had thwarted the enemy. Nothing. Every encounter with the Quassers had resulted in defeat. Out of the combined military might of the Foreworlds and Backworlds, only these two Backshits could chase the Quassers off. Not kill, only send them away. The ice of Ronu found a new home in Midge’s gut. Had the Quassers been run off?

“Do you still feel the aliens’ mind control?” she asked.

“Do you know where they’re going?”

“They jabbered on about a spy ‘n took off. At first, I thought they meant my friend Lepsi, but I heard his thoughts mixed up in the fray.” Dactyl sat back on his heels and exhaled slowly. “The Quassers will have their way with Lepsi’s willpower sooner rather than later.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion there’s no such thing as good news in this war.” Midge pushed onto her feet and headed down the ramp off the bridge. “I’ll release the rest of our crew from the isolation tanks. My scientists will heal Tria then we’ll be on our way.”

“To where?” Dactyl called after her.

The right answer wasn’t apparent, so Midge remained silent. She opened the chambers containing the biomechanics first. “You’re needed on the bridge. Crew member down.”

The two scientists had given up the white and red uniform of the Foreworld militia just as Midge had. Wynter and Marcel had volunteered to become part of this mixed squad, eager to find the solution for preventing the premature deaths of Foreworlders. They expected to discover the answers among the Backworlders, the Quassers, or maybe both.

Midge believed it vital to keep Marcel and Wynter’s true occupation from the Backworlders. The Backworlders had a lot of resentment about the plagues that had decimated their populations over the decades. Midge would feel the same in their boots, but hadn’t dissuaded the bioengineers from joining the special unit. They were the best at what they did, and if they could rid the galaxy of the Quassers with an illness, well, Midge was all for winning by any means.

She released the seal on Captain Dialhi’s chamber. Dialhi immediately hurried toward the bridge. Midge delayed her by grabbing onto her sleeve. Dialhi’s round eyes blinked away a stray drop from her constantly oozing skin. Midge didn’t know how the Sprinklers could stand shedding three gallons of water a day. It would drive her backshit.

“The reporting relays are damaged. I could only learn the hull is intact. Come with me to engineering and we’ll discover what needs repair. The rest of the crew is attending to Tria. We should give them space.”

Dialhi mopped gathering droplets off her chin and once again started toward the bridge. “What happened to her?”

Dactyl could answer those questions better than Midge. So she went the other way, to the crawl space leading down into the bowels of the ship: propulsion, engines, and the mechanical workings.

The data console in the engine room informed her of every ding, scrape, and failure the Olvis Deluxe had sustained since crashing into Ronu. What it couldn’t tell Midge, what she really wanted to know, was why she had no memory of the vessel leaving the ice and soaring into the safety of space. Certainly something alien had happened, and she didn’t like it, hated those beings taking liberties. It didn’t matter if their intentions were benign.

“Being taken by Quasser must be worse.” She didn’t want to think about it, thankful for the head injury that prevented her from being enslaved. Leaning her forehead against the cold microtitanium casing housing the propulsion system, she inhaled the deepest breath her lungs could manage. They managed less and less since her capture by the Backshits, but her breathing troubles had nothing to do with the Backshits. Midge’s health would continue to deteriorate unless Wynter and Marcel succeeded.

From her sleeve, she untucked a data scroll and draped it over the console to copy the damage report. The innards of the propulsion system flared with a yellow brilliance that settled into a warm shine. Fast blinked on the console for several heartbeats before fading into the usual bits of data.

Midge shook the data scroll. “Fast what? Who are you? What do you want?”

Symbols and numbers streamed too quickly for her to decipher.

Go fast. Track , blinked on the scroll then dissolved into machine code.

“So you little buggers are helping? Well, great to meet you. Just don’t invade me again. I’m not okay with that.” Midge snatched the data scroll off the console. Pinching it at the edge, she carried it to the bridge and joined the rest of the team. Tria remained on the floor. Wynter and Marcel’s foreheads were deeply furrowed.

“Will she get better?” Midge set the data scroll on the nearest empty seat.

“Near as we can figure,” Wynter said, “she’s in a type of coma.” She wore her red hair in a single braid that hung down below her fanny. Her big, dark eyes scanned Midge’s face. “Should we take her to a medical facility before continuing on?”

Believing in order above all else, Midge looked to Dialhi. Decisions of importance were to be made by the captain.

“There is doctoring beds in the medical bay.” Dialhi picked up the data scroll Midge had brought and read it over. Her gaze swiveled back and forth over the reports multiple times. After a drawn-out minute of silence, she returned her attention to Tria and her crew. “If you set the bed for suspension, she’ll be perfectly safe until she heals or we find someone to help her.”

“I can take care of her.” Dactyl barely had to stoop to lift Tria off the floor. His stocky build displayed an agility Midge hadn’t expected in a body so wide and dense.

“What exactly happened with the Quassers?” Dialhi asked.

Midge filled her in on the initial attack, the chase, the crash on Ronu, and then the obliteration of Ronu and its people. “I think some of the creatures you call the Ims are in the ship. The propulsion system has a yellow glow. Did it show up in the report?”

“It did.” Dialhi let out a small hum and rolled her shoulders. “The Ims gifted us something called a Quantum Tunneling Drive. We’ll be able to travel anywhere in the time it takes a drop to drip.”

“Why? What do they want?”

“Whatever is necessary for the galaxy to survive.” Dialhi followed after Dactyl. “They put how to find the drive in the report. We’ll pick it up ‘n install it before we do anything else.”

A new drive? “The Ims are a generous people.”

“They’ve much to teach us.”

Midge hoped the Ims’ act wasn’t their final one and they had enough energy to keep the altered Quasser contained. In the infirmary, she and the rest of the crew discussed what to do next. Dactyl informed everyone of the Cytran populated worlds and how he came to know of them.

“The Quassers can’t find the Cytrans. Not ever.” He gathered his long, brown waves with one hand and pulled them behind his shoulders.

“I know you love Una, believe me I know your desperation.” Dialhi’s chin trembled. She brought it under control quickly. “We can’t let emotion skew our decision. We can’t fail in making the right one. Not after the disastrous attack by the more powerful Quasser in the ice.”

“Love should always guide us,” Dactyl said, crossing his bulky arms. “Whether yous put it in the equation or not, the Cytrans is exactly what we need.”

The Cytrans had the answer the Foreworlds needed; humanity’s original DNA sequence. The pure code would end the Foreworlders’ problems with reproduction. For the first time in two centuries, the Foreworlds had a shot at a viable future. However, if the Quassers weren’t wiped out, the Foreworlds wouldn’t survive and the newfound hope would be for nothing.

Midge rubbed at her chin, barely hearing the debate among her shipmates. If she reported the Cytran worlds to the Civil Senate, the alliance with the Backworlds would collapse. Midge didn’t want to leave the fight before it ended. However, if she betrayed her crew, she’d have to go.

Remaining a loyal member to the unit meant following the decision of the team. Dactyl wanted to contain the existence of the Cytrans and the others weren’t disagreeing. Midge understood. The biomechanical bodies of the Cytrans would tip the balance of power in the galaxy. Yet, to keep the news on the Olvis was a betrayal of her kind. Did she want to live for now or did she want her people to have a tomorrow?