“I think you just did.”
Lancer Tal said something so quietly that the translator didn’t pick it up, and by the look on Lhyn’s face, she’d missed it too. Ekatya was just about to ask when she realized that a city skyline had appeared on the horizon. Squeezing Lhyn’s hand, she tipped her head toward the window. “I’m a lot happier to be coming toward your city now than I was a few hours ago,” she said.
The Lancer turned in her seat to look. “And I’m happy to be returning at all.”
Lhyn said nothing, but her eyes were the size of saucers. Ekatya could only imagine what was galloping through that brain of hers. It wasn’t often that she had the opportunity to directly confirm or improve her studies of a pre-FTL culture.
Nor did it take her long to ask her first question. “Why is it called Blacksun? I never figured that out.”
“It was founded by the Wandering King,” Lancer Tal said. “He was the first to cross the mountains that ring the valley, and when he came over the final pass and saw the valley for the first time, he barely got a glimpse before everything went dark. It was a total solar eclipse.”
“A black sun,” Ekatya said in understanding.
“Exactly. So he called the valley Blacksun Basin, and when he founded the city, the name was already chosen.”
Lhyn was soaking it up. “And Whitesun?”
Lancer Tal smiled. “It has always been the great rival of Blacksun. The queen who founded it hated Blacksun, though I think in truth she hated the family that ruled it. She was determined that in her city she’d fix everything that was wrong with this one, including the name.”
“So she chose a name that was the exact opposite,” Lhyn said. “This is fantastic. Is that what happened with Redmoon and Whitemoon as well?”
“Redmoon is named for a relatively rare event, when both of our moons go into eclipse and Alsea, Sonalia, and Eusaltin are all lined up together. When that happens, it appears as if we have only one moon—a red moon.”
“Of course,” Ekatya said, though Lhyn looked baffled. “Because it’s reflecting the light from Alsea’s atmosphere instead of from your star.”
Lancer Tal nodded. “But Redmoon and Whitemoon aren’t rivals. They were founded by members of the same family, and historically they were allies more often than not.”
“Would it be possible for me to have access to the etymology of your place-names?” Lhyn asked. “It would fill in so many blanks in our understanding of your culture and history.”
Lancer Tal laughed, a full laugh that transformed her face and posture. “In my wildest fantasies, I never imagined aliens landing on our planet and asking me for an etymology of our place-names. Yes, of course you can have access. And I can’t wait to hear what you ask for next.”
She didn’t have to wait long. Lhyn peppered her with questions and Ekatya listened with half an ear, more interested in the view. As they drew nearer to the city, she realized that many of the buildings were domes, with two groups at the center rising well above the rest. Those groups were encircled by six smaller domes, which were still larger than most of the others in the city. Streets radiated out from the center like strands of a spider web, making it obvious where the power resided.
Then they were crossing the outskirts, and she could look down onto the city streets. They sparkled like diamonds in the early morning light.
“Great Goddess, Aldirk was right,” Lancer Tal said. “Half the windows in the city must have shattered.”
That was glass?
Of course it was. The sonic shockwave would have been ground-shaking.
“Will that cause difficulty for your people?” Ekatya asked. “Are they going to be exposed to weather issues while the repairs are made?”
“Not immediately. We’re still in the last moons of summer. But autumn in Blacksun Basin means the beginning of the rains, usually an entire moon’s worth at the start. We can only hope to get all of the temporary covers done before then. Replacing all of that glass—” She shook her head. “It will be two moons at least.”
“I would be glad to offer any assistance,” Ekatya said, before remembering that she no longer had much of a crew. “I mean…perhaps we can help you with materials.”
The Lancer looked at her quizzically. “Don’t tell me you happen to carry glass cargo in a warship.”
“No, but we can create the materials you need.”
Lhyn’s expression was just this side of dumbfounded. “You really did mean a full debriefing, didn’t you?”
The Lancer had that intent look again, but whatever she’d been about to say was interrupted by the pilot announcing their approach to Blacksun Healing Center. As soon as the translator finished, she said, “I must warn you that the healing center has been cordoned off by warriors. It’s not meant to intimidate, but as you might imagine, keeping you a secret will be impossible. I’ll have to make a planetary announcement later this morning, and after that the public will likely be ten deep outside the healing center grounds. The warriors are there to protect you.”
And this, Ekatya knew, was the true danger of an uncontrolled first contact situation. Not the leaders, but the public, with their fears backed by huge numbers. She sincerely hoped Lancer Tal had the power and charisma to talk her people down.
The landing was just as soft as the takeoff had been, and when she, Lhyn, and Lieutenant Candini had collected at the base of the ramp, they found themselves in the center of an entire unit of what Ekatya now knew were the Lancer’s elite Guards. Like Lancer Tal, they were all dressed in a combat uniform whose colors she was certain had been varying shades of greens and grays before, but which were now evenly dark, blending in with the bricked landing pad they were walking across. She hadn’t even noticed when the Lancer’s uniform had changed, but somehow, the fabric altered which wavelengths it reflected. Filing that away for a future Q&A session, she concentrated on crutching her way toward the large arch that gave access to the healing center’s main dome.
“Really, Ekatya, would it kill you to accept their offer?” Lhyn said.
“I am not going to be wheeled in to see my crew.”
“You are the most stubborn woman I have ever known.”
“Go easy on her,” Candini said. “That stubbornness is the reason the Voloth were vaporized instead of this city. And how much stubbornness does it take to refuse to evacuate when ordered?”
That shut Lhyn down, though Ekatya bumped her with her shoulder, letting her know she was no longer angry. In the crowd they were moving with, it could have been seen as an accident, but Lhyn’s expression smoothed out.
They passed through the arch and into a high-ceilinged room suffused with a sharp, bitter scent. Disinfectant, Ekatya guessed. Some things truly were universal.
A very tall, thin man in a dark blue uniform stood waiting. He bowed his head before the Lancer, but did not touch his fists to his chest. “Lancer Tal, I’m glad to see you safe.”
“Thank you, Healer Wellernal. May I introduce you to your last three patients: Captain Serrado, Lhyn Rivers, and Lieutenant Candini.”
The moment she understood, Candini said, “I’m not a patient. I’m fine.”
Ekatya looked at her pilot’s torn, filthy uniform and the scrapes on her hands and face. “You may be in the best shape of all of us, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t use a bit of cleaning and antiseptic. Let them check you out, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Captain,” Candini grumbled.
Healer Wellernal glanced from her to the Lancer. “Even among aliens, we can recognize the warrior caste.”
“Then you’re upholding a fine tradition.” Lancer Tal smiled at Candini. “Perhaps I can provide incentive for undergoing a healer’s examination by promising a hot shower and soft bed at the end of it?”
“Throw in a hot meal and you have a deal.”
“There you have it,” Lancer Tal told the healer. “You just have to understand warrior priorities. Give us the proper incentive
and we’re perfectly cooperative.”
Ekatya recognized the diplomatic technique in that “us,” but even knowing what the Lancer was doing didn’t prevent her from feeling a sense of solidarity. Judging by Candini’s unconsciously straightened spine, she was similarly affected.
The healer turned towards Ekatya and Lhyn and spoke more slowly, giving the translator enough time for a simultaneous translation. “Captain Serrado, Lhyn Rivers, the surgery teams are waiting for you. Based on our healers’ field reports, I believe I can promise that you will both be fully mobile by the end of the day. Complete recovery will take another nineday, but as long as you limit your physical activities, you should barely notice the remainder of your recovery.”
Ekatya felt her jaw loosen again; it seemed to be a rather common occurrence today. “I’m sorry, did you mean the end of this day?” Was it a translation error?
He seemed to share her confusion. “Yes. Is that not acceptable? I apologize if you’re accustomed to more rapid healing techniques. Please believe you are getting the best care we can offer.”
“I believe you. We don’t have the technology to heal broken bones that quickly. On my homeworld, I’d be on these crutches for two weeks at least. It appears we could learn a great deal from you.”
Lhyn nudged her. “Told you. They may be pre-FTL, but in other ways they’re extremely advanced.”
“You did tell me,” Ekatya agreed. She didn’t like to think she’d been prejudiced, but the Alseans continued to surprise her. Just as soon as she had checked on her crew and was out of surgery, she was going to pick Lhyn’s brain of every detail. It was time to stop playing catch-up.
“The captain will want to see her crew first,” Lancer Tal said. “Give her any information she asks for on their condition and treatment plan.” She stepped in front of Ekatya and held up her palm. “I cannot stay, but you’re in good hands here. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”
Ekatya met her palm touch, noting that once again it was a single hand. “Thank you, Lancer Tal. For everything.”
“It is we who owe thanks to you.” She moved to Lhyn, touching palms with her and smiling. “And you, my scholar friend, are so full of questions that I’m not certain how you have not burst open with them. Be assured that I have quite a few of my own. When you’re healed, and we’re all a bit more rested, we’re going to have a long conversation.”
Lhyn’s grin was ear to ear. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Candini was uncharacteristically shy when her turn came. “Lancer Tal, it has been an honor,” she said as they touched palms.
The Lancer looked at her for a moment. “I’m a pilot as well, Lieutenant. I’d be very interested to hear how you managed to land a ship that isn’t designed to land. Perhaps we can speak of that later?”
Brightening, Candini agreed. Then the Lancer was gone, taking half of her elite Guards with her. The other half stood patiently waiting.
“Damn,” Candini said. “That good-looking, and she’s a pilot too?”
Chapter 15
Emergency statement
Every radio and vid station had been relentlessly advertising the Lancer’s upcoming emergency statement, with accompanying warnings regarding its importance to all Alseans. Judging from the barrage of reminders to stop everything and listen at mid-one, either the world was about to come to an end or the Lancer was resigning and calling for new elections. Aldebron Fisk didn’t think the first was likely, and didn’t much care about the second, but his bondmate insisted on hearing it. So while Aldebron finished the midmeal preparations, Jamesan rounded up their children and got everyone seated in the dining area, ready to watch.
“Aldebron,” he called. “Put the lids on the pans and come in here. The Lancer is about to begin.”
Muttering about politics interfering with perfectly timed midmeals, Aldebron reluctantly washed his hands and moved into the dining area, where the vidcom was filled by the Seal of the Lancer. As he pulled out his chair, the seal gave way to a scene of the Lancer in her office, her dress uniform buttons flashing in the lights.
“Alseans,” she said, “today is a day that you will remember forever. Today is the day everything we thought we knew changed—when our history ended and our future began. It is the day that one sacrifice saved millions of lives.”
“Well, that’s quite a lead-in to announcing her retirement,” Aldebron said.
Jamesan hushed him.
“Some of you may have heard the rumors. Others heard the sonic shockwave. It is time to lay the rumors to rest, and explain why so many in Blacksun spent their morning sweeping up broken glass.” She paused, looking down at her desk, then faced the screen again and said, “Last night, just before night-three, a battle was fought above Alsea. Not in our skies. In our orbit. It was fought between two alien races, one of which sought to rob us of our resources, and the other which came to our defense. Despite not knowing us, this second race—the Gaians—risked their lives to protect us.”
With two active children running about, Aldebron’s household was normally full of noise. But for the next tentick, not a sound could be heard other than the Lancer’s voice, telling a story almost beyond belief. Had anyone else been spinning this tale, Aldebron would have laughed in their faces. But this was the Lancer, in an official announcement. And when the scene cut to a view of the gigantic crashed ship, his gasp was as loud as his children’s.
“Great Goddess above, would you look at that!” he said.
Rorin and Abbison burst into chattering excitement, pointing and exclaiming, and it was some time before their fathers could quiet them down. All four of them watched the rest of the statement with rapt attention, and when the Seal of the Lancer came onscreen once more, even the children were stunned into silence.
“She was right,” Jamesan said. “Everything we thought we knew—it’s all changed. The world our children inherit will not be the world we grew up in. We can’t even conceive of what they might experience.”
“Can we go see the ship, Ba?” Rorin asked. “Can we?”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure the ADF has hundreds of warriors ringed around that ship, guarding it.”
“Is that one of the aliens?” Abbison was pointing out the dining room window.
“What?” Aldebron and Jamesan looked at each other, then rose simultaneously and rushed to the window.
A giant machine, like a square building on legs, was moving down the river toward their property. Even as they watched, it stopped, turned, and appeared to look straight at them.
Aldebron felt his stomach flip. “That doesn’t look anything like the ship they showed.”
“Rorin, Abbison, we need to go out the back,” Jamesan said in a too-calm voice. “Let’s go.”
Aldebron knew he should go with them, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the machine. Something was moving on its front.
“Aldebron!”
“I’m coming,” he said, taking one last look before turning to follow his family. Then he flew across the room and crashed into the opposite wall.
“Jamesan,” he tried to call, but his voice didn’t work, and when he looked down at his body, all he saw was red.
The noise gradually came to his attention, a roaring sound that accompanied the blizzard of debris filling the air, bits and pieces of their house that was being torn apart around them. Praying that his family had made it to safety, he turned his head to see a pile of bodies in the doorway, all three of his reasons for living reduced to body parts that were no longer held together.
His scream made no sound.
* * *
The machine stopped firing. A thermal scan verified four bodies in the house, all of which were cooling.
It retracted the rapidgun, turned, and resumed its march. It had detected no transmissions from the house, so unless the Alseans had a method of communication it could not scan, its location was still unknown. Without knowing how many other pacifiers had survived the destruction of their sh
ip, it could not afford to be discovered until it was in position for a real battle.
Until then, it would leave no witnesses.
Chapter 16
Staking claims
Micah watched from behind the recording crew as Tal wrapped up her emergency statement, surrounded by four hovering vidcams. It was well done, he thought. She’d made heroes out of the Gaians, while downplaying the threat of the Voloth. Until they knew more about what they were facing, it was the safest choice.
The crew chief called, “Cams off!” and the room burst into a hive of activity, with equipment being moved and packed and twelve voices speaking at once. Tal sat calmly at the center, listening to Aldirk, who had already made it to her side and was no doubt adding fifty-six items to her list of things to do.
Micah shook his head. How she could look so fresh after just two hanticks of sleep, he did not know. He still felt as if a fully loaded cargo transport had landed on him, though the shower and clean clothing had certainly helped. And he wasn’t having to deal with the political storm that was gathering around the State House.
Such storms were Aldirk’s specialty, though. He seemed invigorated, and was exhorting Tal to do something that, judging by her reaction, was not making her happy. Of course her front was perfect as always, not that it took much effort to hide emotions from Micah. But he’d learned to read her especially well over the cycles, and her too-calm posture was a giveaway. When she was controlling her emotions and facial expressions, her body went still as well. He often thought that high empaths depended too much on their strength, because Aldirk and the others in the State House had never understood that about her.
Ten ticks later, and with a suddenness that always surprised him, the hive of movement coalesced into a line of Alseans walking out, each carrying a gear bag. Micah closed the door behind the last one, drawing a relieved breath as quiet settled over the office.
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