The Remnant

by Paul B Spence

  "Lord Tebrey! I didn't expect to see you again so soon!" Jeroen met them in the village square. "Should you be walking? Your injuries were grave."

  "We have good medicine, Lord Jeroen," Tebrey replied.

  "Evidently." He eyed them both speculatively. "So what brings you back here from death's door?"

  Tebrey smiled. "It wasn't as bad as all that. I had lost a lot of blood, but the wounds were not much worse than scratches." That was a lie, but Mason had wanted him to downplay the medical angle.

  "If you say so."

  "I'll leave you two men to it," Mason said. She walked away to talk to a woman grinding grain.

  Jeroen looked at him expectantly.

  "One of our doctors asked me to get some samples for him," Tebrey said.

  "Samples of what?"

  Tebrey struggled to explain. "Dr. Bauval – have you met him? – asked me to collect dead skin, from people's mouths, to..." Now what? he thought. "Dead skin for him to see."

  Jeroen furrowed his brow, thinking. "What good would seeing dead skin do?"

  "He would know the relation of one person to another, and be able to make better medicine to help the people here."

  "How would he do this? It this some sort of magic?" Jeroen's hand dropped to his jeweled dagger.

  "No. He is a… a doctor, a man of great learning."

  "I know what a doctor is," Jeroen said impatiently. "How does this dead skin help him help us?"

  Tebrey stared at him, astounded for a moment. I need to remember that people aren't less smart just because they don't live at the same level of technology as I do, he thought. Jeroen is as canny as they get. Tebrey was going to have be careful what he said around him. "I don't understand it all myself, to be honest. He has a tool that shows him very small things. The skin of a person holds many secrets."

  "Indeed. So what do you do to get this skin? Does it hurt?"

  "Not really. I have to rub a small stick on the inside of the mouth for a moment. That is all."

  "Show me," Jeroen said. "If I do this first, then others will see that there is nothing to fear."

  "All right, here is the swab. Just open your mouth for a moment." He quickly swabbed Jeroen's cheek and put it in the container. "That's it. Thank you."

  "Come, let us get skin for your doctor," said Jeroen.

  Lord Jeroen watched the large man gently getting his samples from some slaves, and wondered. Many of the slaves had been terrified of the man. His kind had raided from the north for a hundred years. But Tebrey, with his quiet voice and true-black clothes, seemed far different from those barbarians.

  He was very careful and kind with each person.

  Some of the guards had suggested that this Tebrey was soft. That was before the hunt, of course. But Jeroen had talked to the strange woman Mason and learned that Tebrey was considered a great warrior and only the week before had killed one of the terrible giant lizards that often terrorized Jeroen's people. It had been that knowledge that prompted him to invite the man to hunt. After the hunt, no man doubted Tebrey's prowess as a warrior. To kill a kasir with nothing but a knife! It was a deed worthy of a song.

  Jeroen didn't think Tebrey was from the north at all.

  All of his people knew that they had come from a world beyond the sky. How it was that this had come to pass, no one could say anymore. Some said that men had sailed the stars as they now sailed the seas. He thought that these strange people with their odd language and bizarre customs might be from beyond the sky, also.

  He hoped so.

  He was growing bored with life in a small village. There were only so many ways to entertain himself with peasant girls with whom he couldn't even hold a real conversation. Not to mention how boring hunts were, with men who were overly protective of him because of his father. He craved new experiences. He'd taken too few men with him on the last hunt just to see if that would make things more interesting.

  It had almost been too interesting. He lost too many men and horses in that hunt. His father had not been amused, but Jeroen needed something to keep himself from going mad with boredom. Many of the fiercest of creatures had long since been hunted. He wanted something new to see and do, and his father wouldn't let him go to the capitol for fear that his mother would have him killed.

  Jeroen sighed at his thoughts.

  Maybe, if these people came from the sky, they would go back and let him go along. He wanted new adventures. If nothing else, there had to be more interesting things to hunt on other worlds.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tebrey waited impatiently for the shuttle to finish docking. It was after midnight, by ship's time, and he was cold, tired, and hungry. Not to mention achy. When Dr. Rodriguez had told him to take it easy, she probably wouldn't have considered walking around a village and squatting to take samples from people to fall under that heading.

  He had Bauval's samples, and he wanted to hand them over and go take a shower before finding food. His mental shields were slipping; he could feel the mental pressure from the people around him on the shuttle. Finally the airlock opened, and the scientists went out in small groups, talking about the digs.

  He was the last to debark.

  Dr. Bauval pounced on him as he came through the airlock. "Well? Were you able to get any samples?" Bauval rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  "I was able to get a few, but before I give them to you," Tebrey said, holding the case, "I want a promise from you that you'll tell me anything you find out. I find myself growing as curious as you about the pale-skinned people."

  "Of course, Commander," Bauval said with a smile. "How many were you able to sample?"

  "One hundred fifty-seven," he replied. "Eleven of those are the pale-skinned people." He handed the small case over to Bauval.

  "Thank you," said Bauval. "Thank you. I didn't think that you'd be able to get so many. I hadn't been able to get any samples myself, as you know, and no one else could think of a way to do it and not get impaled with a crossbow bolt."

  "Hmm. I almost didn't get away with it. You'd better be happy with those samples, Doctor. I doubt you'll get more anytime soon." The villagers had not been pleased with him, or with Lord Jeroen for helping. He doubted they would be as amendable to his requests next time.

  "I am quite pleased. Thank you again." Bauval clutched the case to his chest. "If there is ever anything that I can do for you, name it. I don't how I'll ever be able to repay you. These samples will make a big different in my research. Thank you."

  Tebrey was embarrassed by the man's gushing gratitude. "Don't worry about it, Doctor. Just remember to let me know what you find."

  The area had emptied fast, but Tebrey could see Dr. Mason talking to her assistant Jeremy, who had accompanied them to the village. He wanted to talk to her as well.

  He nodded goodbye to Bauval and walked across the cabin. "Dr. Mason? Could I speak with you?"

  "Of course," she said. "I was just heading up to my office."

  He fell into step with her.

  "How was your visit today?" she asked. "Fall off any more horses?"

  He growled good-naturedly. "You don't just fall off a horse; it throws you off. But no, I didn't. I got the samples for Dr. Bauval."

  "Oh, I'm surprised you didn't get shot," she said, chuckling.

  Tebrey shook his head at her. "It wasn't that bad. Lord Jeroen helped."

  "Really? I think that young man understands more than he lets on."

  "I agree. But what I wanted to talk to you about was the pale-skinned people."

  "The genetic anomalies? What about them? That is more Pierre's area than mine."

  They stepped into a lift together.

  "I'm not so sure. I was able to get samples from eleven of them today. They're really quite different from the other villagers."

  She shrugged. "So? I think Renivee gets them from another village to the west on raids or something. I'll get around to studying them later. They don't seem too important to my research a
t the moment."

  "Don't be so sure," Tebrey said, following her off the lift. "Did you know that they speak a different language?"

  "What?" she shouted, startled.

  Jeremy stuck his head out of the next door down the hall, but Mason ignored him.

  "What did you say?"

  "They speak a different language. Much different."

  "Jeremy!" she shouted.

  "I'm here, Amber. No need to shout." He'd come out to listen after overhearing what Tebrey had just said.

  "Did you hear this?" She gestured at Tebrey.

  "I did. Commander, how sure are you that it isn't simply a foreign dialect?"

  "Absolutely certain," Tebrey said, thinking about the people he had seen that day.

  "Jeremy, how did we miss this?" Mason asked.

  He shrugged. "They wouldn't talk to us. Each time we tried, they just stared at us blankly. We hadn't even been sure that they were capable of speech, or if the genetic anomalies included some sort of inherited muteness. Remember taking to Pierre about it?"

  They went into Mason's office and found chairs.

  "I remember that now."

  "I don't know why they wouldn't talk to us." Jeremy looked curiously at Tebrey. "Do you know why they'd talk to you and not us?"

  Tebrey shook his head. "No, I don't. They didn't say a lot. And now that I think about it, they didn't talk when Jeroen was around. But they did talk a little. It wasn't like anything else I have heard." As he said that, a small memory tugged at him but faded when he tried to think about it: something he had heard long ago.

  Mason chuckled, interrupting he thoughts. "Maybe they talked to you because you look a little like them. I haven't seen anyone here outside of their population group who has green eyes. You've got that and pale skin. It had to help."

  "You may have something there," Jeremy spoke up. "We were all selected so we would blend in with the locals, but we didn't have enough data."

  "Okay," Mason said. "The joke's on us. Get the team together. I'll want to go over this new data with them and see if there's some way that we can get more. Commander, thank you. I'd felt we were close to reaching a dead end with our investigations. Now we have a new direction to look in."

  "No problem, Doctor. Like I said, I was doing cheek scrapings, and they whispered a few words to each other and to me. I didn't catch what they said to each other. But what they said to me was A'n aght ta shiu and Ta'iu ard. I have no idea how to spell that, but there it is."

  "Do you think you'd able to work with us later? If they really will talk to you, maybe you could introduce one of us, and maybe they would talk to us, too."

  "If I have time, I certainly will. I'm actually supposed to be working on those artifacts at the beta dig site. Let me know. For now," he said, standing up, "I need to get a shower and some hot food."

  "Of course, Tebrey. Thank you again."

  He left Mason and Jeremy talking excitedly to each other.

  Lt. Commander Graham was working late, finishing paperwork at his bridge terminal. He hadn't wanted to try to sleep. He knew there would be an alert sometime during the night. Their relief force was due to arrive.

  "Sir! A ship has transited the outer hyperlimit, eleven light-minutes out."

  "Thank you," Graham replied. "Bring up our defense systems, Zdansky, and determine if it's ours or not."

  "Acknowledged, sir."

  He closed the report he was working on and began donning his spacesuit. Most of the bridge crew were doing likewise.

  "Hypertrace! We have multiple ships!" a sensor technician yelped.

  Graham grimaced. I really hope that those are ours, he thought as he reached over to his screen and triggered the ship-wide alert. The klaxon rang throughout the ship, and the rest of the crew hurriedly donned spacesuits.

  "Sir," Brian Zdansky said, "I've got confirmation on seven fusion traces. Drive signatures show standard Fleet emission lines."

  Earth Federation starships burned deuterium and helium-3 in onboard reactors to produce power for the ship. Helium-3 fusion was also used in the primary engines. To this mix were added a few trace elements to produce a unique exhaust signature for all Fleet vessels.

  "Good work," Graham replied. That was fast, he thought. I thought they were just going to send two ships. I guess they took us seriously, after all. He then selected the icon on his screen to deactivate the alert and sound general quarters. "Communications," he said, "get me the captain."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Commodore Rhys Ffoulkes sat with pride in his acceleration couch on the bridge of the massive Gorgon-class battle cruiser Agamemnon. The six other ships of his taskforce were arrayed around the cruiser, each of them exactly twenty thousand kilometers from the next.

  "Nearing GL 661 Three, Captain," his diminutive executive officer reported.

  "Thank you, Commander Vipavakit. Bring us in."

  "Communications?" she said.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Notify all ships: 'Initiate parking orbit at designated coordinates.'"

  "Yes, sir."

  The seven warships had long since spun along their axes, fusion engines at full power to reduce their speed. Now they were crawling into orbit around the large moon of the third planet at less than one hundred fifty thousand kilometers per second. The original taskforce lay fifty thousand kilometers to port.

  "Designated orbit reached, sir."

  "Acknowledged. Lieutenant Medici?"

  "Yes, sir?" the communications technician replied.

  "Please notify the captains of all ships that a general staff meeting is scheduled for 0900 to discuss the defense of this system."

  "Yes, sir."

  The commodore stood. "Commander Vipavakit," he said.

  "Yes, Captain?" she replied.

  "You have the bridge."

  Lieutenant Amelia Christopher was eating breakfast with Lt. Commander Tebrey. She watched with a certain horrified fascination as he worked his way through two plates of food. She had to admit that the food aboard the Loridell was far better than that of most Fleet ships, but it was still shit-on-a-shingle.

  "We both know that this situation is unusual," Tebrey said. "As I said before, I don't want to undermine your command. While I'm sure that regulations say that an officer is an officer, we both know that my own specialties lie outside the realm of field command."

  "I understand, sir," she replied. "But I feel obliged to keep you informed about important business in the platoon. There are just some decisions that should be made at a higher level, now that I'm under your command."

  "I wouldn't say that you're under my command, Lieutenant. My orders, at least, said that you are to make yourself and your platoon available to me in case the civilian scientists needed additional protection on the planet below. That's not exactly the same thing."

  Christopher sighed. She had a suspicion that the commander wanted the same thing she did, that she should run her platoon as she saw fit. The problem was that she just wasn't sure about her orders. They were ambiguous, and she hated not knowing exactly what to do.

  "Lieutenant," he said, "I'll make it easy on you. I order you carry on as you have been. You've assigned extra guards to the planetside rotation, as I asked. As far as I'm concerned, we're good. Everything will be fine. I'll take full responsibility for anything you do. Just let me know about the major things. I'll even note this conversation in my report today, along with my orders to you. Okay?" He gave her a rather feral grin.

  She nodded. "Yes, sir."

  Corporal Cook came into the room, looked around and headed for the table. "Sirs!" she said, saluting.

  "Yes?" they said in unison.

  Tebrey chuckled, and Christopher felt uncomfortable as she nodded.

  "Lt. Commander Tebrey, sir," Cook said with caution. "Dr. Rodriguez asked that you come see her in Medical, sir."

  "Did she say why, Corporal?" he asked. "Or if it was urgent?"

  "No, sir."

  "Very well. Let
her know I'm eating breakfast and will be there as soon as I finish. Say, ten minutes or so."

  "Yes, sir." She saluted smartly and left on her errand.

  Tebrey looked at his food for a moment and then said, "What is it about a summons from Medical that puts one off one's food?"

  "Sir?" Christopher wasn't sure if he had meant that for her or not, or if he was joking.

  "Rhetorical question, Lieutenant. I suppose I should see what the good doctor wants with me. If you'll excuse me."

  Christopher shuddered as he scooped a large mass of protein reconstitute unto his mouth before leaving the table. She could barely stomach the stuff.

  Tebrey strode down the corridors toward Medical, trying to think of why the doctor would want to see him. He couldn't come up with anything that he couldn't automatically dismiss. He wasn't scheduled for an exam, and his wounds were well-healed with no complications. There was no need for him to be there. If it had been a problem with a patient, Medical would have sent for marines, not him.

  When he arrived at the medical bay, a technician escorted him to an isolation room in the back of the ward. He was surprised to find Sergeant McGee standing guard outside the door wearing full battle gear.

  "Sir," he said with a nod, and punched the code to open the door. Tebrey gave him a quizzical look, but if the sergeant knew what was up, he wasn't talking for once.

  Tebrey stepped into the room and froze in his tracks. Dr. Rodriguez and two technicians were running a series of diagnostics on a large stasis container. There was only one thing he knew of that would require a stasis chamber of that size, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face that.

  If fact, he was fairly certain he wasn't, and that it didn't matter in the least because nothing he could say was going to change what was about to happen.

  Captain John Hutchinson had reported early to the Agamemnon to officially transfer command of the taskforce over to Commodore Ffoulkes. That had been... interesting. The commodore had commended him on his defense of the planet, but there had been an undercurrent of patronization. He was sure the commodore felt that he had taken unnecessary risks with his taskforce.